No Holds Barred
by jayhawkbb
Summary: When Bella opens her dance studio right next to Edward's bar, will Edward hate her...or will he fall for the girl next door?  BxE, AH, OOC, rated M for naughty language and behavior.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Same ol', same ol'. Don't own it. **

**A/N: There are a lot of different Edwards in my head. This one has been really loud lately, which is why I can't seem to get updates done timely in the other stories I have going. Or I might need better meds...**

**General thoughts on the fuckery that was my Monday...all my bff's texted me that Eddie Vedder got married and one of those Followill boys got engaged. I'm officially in mourning, as in black cloths over mirrors, stopped clocks throughout the house. I will have to get over this before my husband returns from his big fishing trip later this week. My mother, who's 82, slightly uptight and really funny, voluntarily made herself an adult beverage and hoofed it to my sister's (next door) to announce that she's taking up drinking, and I'm considering offering my hubby _almost_ anything if he will buy me this antique cabinet I'm in love with for our 13th anniversary next weekend. I've even been sextually harassing him on his fishing trip. I'm not sure if that will help or hurt my cause. Hopefully he's not sharing the texts since my boss is my hubby's best friend and is along on the trip...ewww.**

**You know the drill...read...review if you want. I have some other chapters done, so we'll see how it goes. I can post or I can delete and tell Edward to STFU. **

* * *

**EPOV**

Fuck, I love this car. Brand new Mustang GT. Black exterior. Black leather interior. Dark tinted windows. Custom wheels and rims. Five liter, V8 engine. Six-speed manual transmission. I've never really been a car freak until I got this car three weeks ago. At this moment, I don't love anything in the world as much as I love this car…except maybe sex.

I have the windows down today, enjoying the warmth and the summer sun, blaring classic Foo Fighters from my stereo. I love the rumble of the engine as I downshift to pull into the parking lot of the bar, my bar, The Full Moon. Formerly The Full Moon Saloon. It's a ridiculous name for a bar and a little too Cat in the Hat for me. But I didn't pick it – when I took it over from the previous owner, it was already named and already successful, so I bought the rights to the name in order to have a smoother transition. I did change the name to The Full Moon Tavern, but everyone just calls it The Full Moon anyway.

Of course, my father had a fucking conniption fit when he found out I wanted to use my business degree – and part of my trust fund – to run a bar and grill. To say that he flipped the fuck out is an understatement. Luckily, my sister arrived home from Europe about that same time, and he was more disappointed in her behavior than in mine. She bore the majority of Dad's wrath for the next few months as he and my mom pushed and prodded her to get her life back on track. By the time he was ready to come after me again full force, the bar was already running in the black, so there wasn't much ammo left for attack. My dad and I still aren't really close, but he did get off my ass and he even comes in for a drink once in awhile now.

As I roll into the parking lot, I am surprised to see an old red truck parked at the side of the building next door. I haven't had to share this lot for almost a year, have gotten used to not having a neighbor in the little one-story brick building next door. The last lady who rented it had a New Age store, selling incense and crystals and shit, but went out of business before the holidays last year. She was nice, though…a little odd, but nice. And really fucking funny after a couple glasses of wine. Still, we are in the Seattle inner 'burbs. I think her business would have done better downtown where more of the artsy-types and neo-hippies hang out.

I pull in to my side of the parking lot and park right next to my side door, looking in my rearview mirror at what's going on behind me. There's a woman lugging boxes out of the bed of the red truck and into the building's propped-open side door. She's tiny. Some of those boxes probably weigh as much as she does.

Her dark brown hair is hanging down around her face so I can't get an idea of how good looking she is, but her body is incredible. Slim waist, great ass, perky little tits, long legs for as short as she is, perfectly showcased in tight jeans. I turn the car off, but don't get out, still watching her in the rearview mirror. Another car pulls up beside her truck and two men get out, walking toward her. I put my hand on the door handle, preparing to get out and go to her rescue, but when she sees them, she runs toward them, wrapping her arms around first one and then the other. The second one picks her up and kisses her when she hugs him. Oh well. She's probably got a hag face anyway. The ones with the best bodies usually do. Besides, there are plenty of girls that hang around the bar hoping I'll screw them…and sometimes I do. Or at least I used to.

I have cut down on hooking up with random chicks in the last few months. Ever since two of them somehow got the crazy idea that we were in a relationship. They both showed up the same night to wait for me at the bar. Screaming ensued, first at each other and then at me. Needless to say, they both went home without me that night, since I left with another girl right in front of them. I chuckle lightly thinking about what an asshole I was to those other girls. Serves them right. No guy likes to be screamed at, especially at his place of business. And they both knew at the outset that I don't date, I only fuck. It's not my fault they each thought they could change me. You know what they say: An asshole doesn't change his spots…or something like that. But I definitely don't want any more drama at the bar, so I stick with a sex buddy left over from college for the most part now.

After checking my hair in the rearview mirror, I roll the windows up and get out of my car. I lock the car with the remote, then walk to the side door of the bar without looking back at the hot body next door.

* * *

Inside the bar, I check stock and wait for the daily deliveries. I usually come in alone early on Fridays, giving everyone else a chance to recover since Thursday is usually such a late night. I didn't stay until close last night, but judging by the receipts Emmett left in my office safe, they were busy all night. I pull together all the July receipts and grab my laptop then head back out front. As I'm sitting at the bar working on financials for the accountant, I hear someone come in through the side door. I look up from my laptop to check the reflection in the back bar mirror – it's Aro. Goddamn dickhead. I knew I should have locked that door behind myself.

"Not open yet, Aro," I say, briefly looking over my shoulder at him. It's only a little after nine.

"I'm not here for a drink. Just came by to check on the new tenant next door and thought I'd pick up your rent check while I was here instead of coming back later. Can't believe it's August 1st already. Don't know where the summer went," he says. I get up and go behind the bar to get the envelope containing the check for him. I think he knows I don't much care for him, so the first of the month is about the only time he comes around. I refuse to pay him even one day early.

I hand the envelope across the bar to him and lean back against the back bar, arms folded across my chest. "Who is the new renter next door? I thought you'd never get anyone in there after Renata shut down her holistic voodoo store last year," I say. Just a little neighborly curiosity, nothing more.

"Her name's Bella Swan. She works for me at the law office four days a week. She's opening a dance studio. Hot piece of ass, that one. I've been trying to talk my way into her pants since she started working for me three months ago. When she found out I had this vacant property perfect for her studio, she jumped at it. Maybe I should have given her a break on the rent in exchange for sexual favors," he laughs. I laugh with him because he's my landlord and it makes my life easier to get along, but he makes me sick.

"I saw two brawny guys helping her move stuff in earlier, so you might want to steer clear of that. They looked like they could kick both of our asses for sure," I remark, trying to sound casual, like I don't really fucking care. And I guess I don't care, except that Aro is such a piece of shit that I wouldn't wish him on anyone.

"I don't care if she has a boyfriend. I have a wife. What they don't know won't hurt them," he laughs. My stomach can't take much more of him. I may be a dickhead to women now, but I'd never cheat on my wife…if I am ever stupid enough to get married, I'll be faithful. Time to show Aro the door.

"I've got a lot to do here, so if you don't need anything else…" I start.

"Don't let the door hit my ass on the way out?" he chuckles. "You're still a prick, Cullen."

"You're still an asshole, Volturi," I answer, not looking up as he exits.

* * *

Several times over the next few days, I catch glimpses of her – Bella. Saturday she wears a baseball hat, shading her face so I still don't get a good look at her face. She must have been painting that day…she had on short jean shorts and a paint-splattered t-shirt that was tied on the side, exposing some skin between it and the shorts. Yeah, my dick noticed the creamy skin revealed in between. She's pretty fucking pale for summertime even in Seattle. She must never go out in the sun. She disappears into her building and I don't see her again that day.

I normally don't come in on Sunday at all…we're not open on Sunday except during football season. But I do have some stuff to do and if I happen to get a look at her amazing ass again in some short shorts, all the better. When I finally see her out my office window carrying a mop and broom inside her place, I'm disappointed that she's wearing longer shorts this time. They come all the way down to her knees. But she has on one of those tank tops with the really skinny straps and her tits look fantastic, even from this far away. I bet she isn't even wearing a bra. Her body looks better to my dick everyday, but her face remains mostly a mystery as she has the hat on again.

Monday she's a no-show. Oh, wait. Aro said she works for him at his law office, so she's probably there during the day. Why am I so obsessed with seeing what this girl looks like? It's sure to be a disappointment. But I still fucking find excuses to go outside that evening and see if she ever shows up. After four smoke breaks and two times pretending to go look for something in my car, I decide she's probably not coming today. I'm not sure why I feel such a letdown at the thought of going a day without seeing her.

I'm pleasantly surprised when I go out to smoke at nine; the red truck is there. I lean back against the brick wall of my two-story building and light a cigarette, propping one foot against the wall behind me. As I'm smoking, a light turns on in the room that faces where I'm standing…the only room I can see into from my side of the parking lot. The blinds are open so I see her walk into the room and put a CD in the stereo system. She turns it on and I vaguely hear the beat of music. She adjusts the placement of the speakers in the room and stands by herself in the middle of the room. I still can't really fucking see her face from this far away, but her hair is up in a ponytail tonight. As I watch, she starts to dance, turning in circles like a ballerina or some shit. Well, fuck, she's opening a dance studio, so I guess she is a ballerina or some shit.

My face involuntarily breaks into a smile as I watch her dance…she's graceful, tiny, her fucking stellar body moving and twirling easily across the floor. Tossing my cigarette to the ground and stepping on it, I decide I'd better get my ass back inside my own place before I turn into a pussy-whipped peeping Tom from watching my new neighbor through her window.

* * *

I decide to fucking ignore her for the next week. I will myself to pay no attention to whether or not the red truck is parked outside. I can't really help it if I happen to see workers there installing mirrors and hanging signs - Studio B Dance Company. They are parked on her side of our parking lot, so every time I go to my car to get … something … out of it, I can see who's there.

Actually, I think it's pretty fucking rude that she hasn't even come by to introduce herself. I am complaining about this to my sister, Rosalie, nine days later. Rosalie is my older sister, but she spent the better part of her early twenties roaming around Europe with some older rich dude – mostly because she knew it would piss our parents off. So she's still in college and working for her baby brother part-time since our parents have greatly reduced her cash flow. That is, they changed the terms of her trust fund so only her tuition and room and board are paid for. She has to earn all her spending money. Ouch. That was a blow to Princess Rosalie.

"I met her," Rose says nonchalantly from her seat on a barstool in front of me. She shrugs as she continues. "She seemed nice enough…kind of shy. That's probably why she hasn't come by."

"When did you meet her?" I ask, filling the garnish station, trying to sound nonchalant myself. I _am_ fucking nonchalant…just because my dick likes it when we get a look at her body doesn't mean that I have some fundamental need to meet her or something.

"I don't know," she says, tilting her head to the side slightly, studying me. "Couple of days ago. We were in the parking lot at the same time, so I walked over and introduced myself. And don't think I don't recognize that look on your face, buddy. Leave her alone. Don't fuck the ballerina."

"Jesus, Rosalie. All I said was it's weird she hasn't come by to say hi anytime during the last three weeks. I am not trying to fuck the ballerina," I answer testily.

"Good, because seriously, you have enough girls chasing you around. Don't make it awkward with the neighbor by screwing her and then ignoring her like you do all the other girls, Mr. Bed 'em and Shed 'em," she says tersely.

"I don't ignore all of them," I say, smirking.

"Yeah, you let some of them hang around a week or two until you get tired of banging the same chick. Face it, Edward. You don't do relationships," she says.

"I don't need some woman I barely know bossing me around. I already have a bossy older sister to do that," I retort, laughing and ducking when she throws her crumpled up napkin at me across the bar.

* * *

Two nights later, I'm smoking outside again when the ballerina drives into the parking lot in her red truck. It's late enough that it's dark outside, so I don't think she sees me leaning against the side of my building. But she parks right under a huge light, so I can see her very well. She's wearing the tiny jean shorts again. She climbs into the bed of the truck and struggles to move a big box to the tailgate. Jesus, the muscle definition in her thighs is amazing. Her quads are lean and defined, but not in a bodybuilder kind of way. Just in a hot, holy mother of god, look at those wheels kind of way. The backs of her legs look smooth and shapely. The sides have a deep indentation that disappears beneath the bottom of her shorts. I get hard immediately just thinking about what she could do to me with those thighs. She hops down from the tailgate and manages to get the box off the truck, then tries to scoot it along the asphalt toward the side door to her studio.

I attempt to control my lust as I push off the wall and walk toward her. "Hi," I call out. When she turns, she looks a little alarmed. I hold my hands up in the surrender gesture, still holding my burning cig and say, "I'm Edward, Rosalie's brother…I own the bar. I saw you struggling with the box and thought you might like some help getting it inside." I stop a few feet away from her so she doesn't feel threatened. This is the closest I've been to her and even though she's standing in the shadows now, it's the best look I've gotten at her face. She's fucking beautiful, of course, because that's the kind of luck I have. My dick, which I talked halfway down, stands back up immediately.

She smiles tentatively at me. "I'm Bella. Um, it's okay. I've got it. Thanks anyway."

"Fine. Suit yourself. Just trying to be a good neighbor," I say coolly, pausing to take a drag of my cig. Fuck. I feel like I could just look at her face all night, her chocolate eyes, her sweet, pink lips. It's a face that could make me ignore the fucking hot body it's attached to. And that's saying something.

She exhales loudly. Jesus, even that sounds hot and makes me wonder what kinds of breathy noises she'd make in bed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be short with you. I would actually love some help getting it inside. My friend was supposed to come help me tonight, but he bailed," she says, rolling her big brown eyes.

I suppress the grin my lips want to curl into by putting the cigarette in my mouth, then I pick up the box, lifting it up to my shoulder and holding it in place with both hands. "Lead the way," I say.

She runs ahead of me to unlock the side door and opens it for me. "Um, would you mind leaving the cigarette out here? I really don't want to stink up the studio," she says.

"No problem. But you're going to have to grab it," I say, grinning at her around the cigarette.

"Uh, okay," she says, propping the door open with her foot and reaching up toward me to grasp the cigarette and remove it from my lips. She's close enough that I can smell her now, and she smells fucking great. Not perfumed by eau de whatever like most of the girls that hang around the bar. Just clean and a little sweet. She's holding the cigarette out to her side, grasping it gingerly between her fingers like she's holding something girls find disgusting, like a worm or a bug or a used condom. I think it's kind of funny how girls are grossed out by touching used condoms, because the spunk is on the inside. The wet, outside part that girls never want to touch? That's all them. But whatever. As long as I get laid, I'll happily be the one that disposes of it.

"You can just put it out," I say, trying not to laugh at her. She drops it immediately and steps on it, then reaches inside the door to flip on a light.

"Put the box in my office please. First door on the left," she says. I go in and she turns on the light in the empty office. I set the box down carefully.

"What's in here anyway?" I ask, partly because I'm curious – it was fucking heavy – and partly because I don't want to leave yet.

"It's a desk. I'm sure in a million pieces. I just need somewhere to sit my laptop," she says, shrugging her slight shoulders. I smile at her and she smiles back, making my breath catch. What the hell was that? My libido is in full force. Guess I need to get laid…and I need to get out of here.

"Do you need help putting it together?" I offer, instead of getting the fuck out of there like I should.

"No, Jake promised he'd put it together for me tomorrow."

Jake. Must be the boyfriend. "All right. Anything else you need help with before I go?"

"Actually, yeah, if you don't mind. The smoke detector keeps beeping," she says, acting embarrassed. On cue, a high-pitched tone sounds from the other room. We both laugh, smiling at each other again. "I can't reach it."

"You have a battery?" I ask. She grabs a bag hanging from the office doorknob, reaches inside and produces a battery. I hold out my hand and she drops the battery into my palm. "Lead the way." I stand back and hold my arm out, motioning for her to leave the office first, eager to get a look at her legs in action in the bright light of the hallway.

I follow her into the room that I can see into from the parking lot, the room where I saw her dancing that night a couple of weeks ago, keeping my eyes trained on her legs and ass the whole way down the hall. She trips over the threshold of the dance room and I grab her arm to keep her from falling down.

"Thanks. I'm such a klutz," she mumbles as she shakes her head, her face turning the most gorgeous shade of pink from her embarrassment. I let go of her immediately once she's steady, puzzled by the jolt of warmth that ran up my arm when I touched her.

"A klutz is opening a dance studio?" I laugh, rubbing my tingling palm on my thigh.

"The only time I'm not a klutz is when I'm dancing or listening to music," she admits, laughing with me. Now that I've heard her laughter, seen her smile, I don't think I'll ever get enough of it. I suddenly feel nervous in a way that I haven't felt around a girl since high school. I need to get my shit together fast.

"Maybe you should wear ear buds all the time, then," I respond, winking at her, liking the way her eyes shine as he laughs louder. I climb up the step stool that's already positioned under the smoke detector and quickly change the battery. I look at her in the floor to ceiling mirror in front of where I'm standing and see that she's checking out my ass; it's eye level with her where she's standing beside me. As she continues to stare at it, she pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth and lets it slowly slide out. I know she's not even trying to be seductive, but goddamn, my body is sure responding.

As I step down, I watch in the mirror as she slides her eyes up my body before she smiles at me again. "Seriously, thanks a lot. I owe you." This time I can't help myself; I look her up and down, stifling the groan that tries to escape as I imagine her long, lean legs wrapped around me. I pause briefly on her flat stomach and then her perfect chest. I lick my lips without thinking, but regret it instantly when I finally get my eyes back up to her face. She is pursing her lips, glaring at me with one eyebrow cocked. Jesus, I thought she was beautiful before, but she's absolutely stunning when she's pissed. Her chocolate brown eyes have gone black and I swear she could shoot fire out of them if she wanted to.

I smirk at her because I really am an ass…and because I don't want her to know how affected I am by her presence. "Well, I'll see you around then. You just holler if you ever need…anything," I say suggestively.

"I'm good, thanks," she says, looking at me like she was looking at the cigarette earlier, curling her upper lip a little in disgust. Oh, honey, I can just imagine how good you are.

I walk past her to the hallway, brushing my shoulder against hers as I turn sideways to get past her. "Nice to meet you, Bella," I say, going out the door. I hear her turn the deadbolt as soon as the door shuts behind me and I laugh out loud. Then I reach up to touch my shoulder where it brushed against her. My skin feels electrified again where we touched and it shot another jolt of desire straight to my cock. "Goddamn," I say to myself, pulling out another cigarette. Where's my fuck buddy when I need her? I grab my cell phone and dial Kate.

* * *

I happen to be out smoking again when she leaves the studio. I just wanted a cigarette… it's not because I've been staring out my office window for forty-five minutes and saw her turning out the studio lights and loading stuff in her truck. Fuck, who am I kidding? Since she's been around, I've gone from smoking one or two cigarettes a night to more than half a pack. I know it's because I'm constantly outside trying to get a look at her or see what she's doing. Well, I guess I can stop that now that I've thoroughly repulsed her. I'm leaning against the brick wall again, just watching her, when I hear the door beside me creak open. I glance over to see who's coming out, inwardly groaning when I realize who it is. I should have known.

Fucking Tanya. She's bartended and waited tables for me for over a year and spent most of that time trying to get in my pants. I've told her a hundred times that I don't fuck my employees. That is one line I refuse to cross. Way too messy. Doesn't stop her from trying, though.

"Hey, Edward. Can I bum a cig?" she asks, sidling up beside me. She glances quickly over at the ballerina, probably trying to see what I'm looking at, then turns back toward me and smiles innocently. I hold the pack out to her and light her cigarette for her when she asks. I can see Bella out of the corner of my eye. I'm not sure if it's my imagination or not, but I think she's looking over here.

"Thanks," Tanya says, and raises up on her tiptoes to kiss me. Before I can push her away, she's got her tongue in my mouth and her free hand roaming my chest and moving down toward my dick. I pull my mouth away and she moves her mouth to my neck, undeterred. She's rubbing my dick through the front of my jeans now. I turn my head toward the dance studio and my eyes meet Bella's. Her eyes are wide in surprise, her mouth gaping open. She turns away immediately and climbs in her truck, starting it quickly and tearing out of the parking lot. Well, not tearing. Her truck is really fucking old. But she's clearly intent on making a getaway.

"Fuck," I say, leaning my head back against the brick wall and closing my eyes.

"I know, baby. It would be so good between us," Tanya whispers hoarsely to me, still kissing and stroking. It does feel good, but not good enough to risk the consequences. Besides, I know at least some of the places Tanya's been and I don't want to go there.

"Get off, Tanya. I need to get back inside. And for the last fucking time, I don't screw employees," I seethe at her. I grip her shoulders roughly and set her away from me, then stalk to the door. I wrench it open angrily, banging it loudly against the wall. God fucking dammit. I'm sure I've scared the ballerina off for good now.

* * *

**A/N #2: My 8-year-old just made my year by announcing that he and two friends want to dress up as KISS for Halloween. I knew my genes would show up sooner or later in that kid.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. **

**A/N: You guys rock! Thanks for the favorites/alerts. BIG, BIG thanks for the lovely reviewers! **

**Here's a little more Edward. Hopefully it won't disappoint. **

* * *

EPOV

I go home with Kate both Friday and Saturday nights after closing. She's my favorite fuck buddy, not just because the sex is outstanding – I'm a guy so any sex is outstanding – but also because she never asks to come to my place and she doesn't complain when I leave right after sex. She knows that I don't spend the night and the last time I took a girl home with me was during my sophomore year in college, six years ago. Whenever Kate isn't dating someone, she's always up for a late night screw and I don't even have to buy her dinner, although I let her drink for free at the Full Moon.

I go cold turkey off the ballerina stalking after the Tanya incident. I see Bella's truck at the studio a couple of times during the next week, but I go back to my old smoking schedule and she is never outside or in the room I can see into from my office or my smoking spot. It's for the best. I have been irrationally obsessed with her for the last few weeks. She looks so sweet and innocent, like the stereotypical girl next door – that must be what it is. Classic case of bad boy attracted to good girl.

My life is definitely better this week without the complication of spying on her. I got my mojo back in order, thanks to Kate, and am no longer distracted by the sexy new neighbor. Looks like I'm over that pesky lust crush. By the end of the week, I'm feeling pretty smug about how I've successfully cured myself of whatever the fuck was going on with me for the last few weeks.

Late the following Friday morning, I sit at the bar waiting for the beer delivery and sorting through bills to go to the accountant. I twist all the way around when the front door to the bar opens. It's the ballerina. She stops inside the door, blinking, letting her eyes adjust to the bar's dim lighting after being outside. Oh, fuck. She's beautiful.

I stand up from the barstool so fast my papers scatter, some of them floating to the floor on the other side. "Hey, Bella," I say, hoping I don't sound too anxious.

"Hi. Is Emmett here?" she asks.

"Emmett, my bartender?" I ask. Then I feel like a dumbass. What a stupid question.

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"I'm here," Emmett booms, coming out of the back room, followed by Rosalie. Gross. I can guess what they've been doing back there. They've been dating since last New Year's but they still can't keep their hands off each other. "Hello, Tiny Dancer. What can I do for you?"

Hold up. Emmett has a fucking nickname for my ballerina? Hold up again. _My _ballerina? Shit…why did I automatically think that? Staggered, I sit back down on my barstool. What the hell is wrong with me? But I have no time to deal with that now. I need to pay attention right the fuck now to what Emmett has going on with the ballerina.

She beams at him. "Nothing. I came to thank you for helping me move into my studio the other night. I really appreciate it. After Jake bailed on me again, I was afraid I'd have to leave all that equipment in my truck overnight. I couldn't move it by myself, that's for sure. So I made you some brownies – I mean, as a thank you." Damn, she's cute …blushing …clearly shy and embarrassed to have all of us standing there listening to her.

"No way! That's awesome. No one's baked anything for me in a really long time," he says, glancing over his shoulder at Rose.

"I make you other things, baby," Rose says, coming up behind him to look in the bag Bella handed Emmett. "Jesus, those smell great. You want a drink or something, Bella?"

"No, thanks. It's a little early in the day for me," Bella answers, her cheeks flushing an even deeper red.

Rose laughs. "We have soda, too, hon. Why don't you sit for awhile. We should get to know our neighbors. Right, Edward?" she looks over at me, smirking. I glare at her and get up to walk around the bar. I pick up the papers that fell and mumble an answer without looking at either of them.

"Diet Coke?" Bella asks, as she sits down two stools away from where I was sitting.

"Em, you heard the lady," Rose barks, sitting down beside Bella.

"Edward, you're already back there," Emmett says to me.

"Jesus! Why do I pay you two again?" I grumble. But I fix the soda for Bella. "Lemon?"

"Yes, please. Almost no one serves it like that…I mean, that's the way I like it," she answers, half-smiling at me shyly.

I set the drink down in front of her and smile back. "I'll have the same," Rosalie announces.

"Get it yourself, bitch," I growl. Bella gasps. Rosalie laughs.

"It's okay, Bella. That's how Edward shows affection for his favorite sister," she says reaching over to pat Bella's arm.

"Only sister," I amend, setting Rose's drink down in front of her with a smirk.

"So I must be your favorite," she winks at me. "Emmett, are you sharing these brownies, or what?" Without waiting for an answer, she digs in, handing one to each of us. We devour them in no time and praise Bella for how fantastic they are. Rose and Emmett then clearly decide it's get-to-know-Bella time. She answers all their questions, but doesn't volunteer much information on her own. I don't say much at all, preferring to just listen to and watch her. But thanks to Rose, I find out that she's opening her studio in a couple of weeks, she left a teaching job at another studio to go out on her own, she still works for Aro four days a week, and she doesn't have a boyfriend. That last part is the only part I remotely fucking care about. The coast is clear.

Someone bangs on the side door and Emmett goes to answer it. "Beer man's here, E," he says.

"Can you handle it, Em? I've got to get these papers sorted out for the accountant by this afternoon," I answer. It's kind of a lie, but he won't know. Rose must have caught on though, because she offers to go help Emmett….help Emmett watch James roll the cases of beer in, I guess.

As soon as they're both gone, I lean over the bar toward Bella, resting my hands on the bartop on either side of where she's sitting. "No brownies for me, ballerina? I helped you one night, too," I remind her, smirking slightly. This look usually melts the ladies' panties right off for me. I barely have to lift a finger. Sometimes I throw a pout in, too. They always fall for that look.

She leans a little closer to me before she answers. "It looked to me like you got a different kind of reward that night. I didn't think brownies would compare," she says in a sweet tone, but it's pure ice underneath. I am impressed, but won't let her see that. I stand up a little straighter, then am immediately irritated with myself that I was the one who backed off first.

"It wasn't what you thought. She works here. She comes onto me all the time, but she's not my girlfriend…and I've never slept with her. My reflexes were impaired – I usually get her off me a lot faster than I did that night," I explain. Jesus, I sound like a tool. I'm completely over-sharing and talking fast like a fucking moron.

"Why are you telling me all this?" she asks incredulously. The look on her face tells me that she agrees with my conclusion that I sound like a tool.

"I don't want you to think badly of me," I shrug, startled at how easily the truthful answer springs from my lips. I contemplate trying the smirk again to cover, but she cuts me off.

She laughs loudly before answering, raising one hand to press against her chest like that's the funniest thing she's ever heard. "Think badly of you? No need to worry, Edward. I don't think of you at all. Thanks for the coke. See you around." She spins the barstool around and hops down, walking away without looking back.

I'm so fucked, I think, as I watch her incredible ass walk out my door.

* * *

An hour later, I head to my car to go run a few errands. I am surprised to see the beer truck is still blocking my car in. James was done unloading at least 15 minutes ago. Then I see him standing beside the red truck, chatting up the ballerina. She looks relaxed, laughing easily at something he said. Fury overtakes me. I'm not usually a jealous person, but seeing the ballerina standing there with James, who I know is a serial dickhead, makes my blood boil. I take a couple of deep breaths, make sure that I can talk like a normal person and not a crazy psycho one and walk casually over to them. I stuff my hands into my front pockets so Bella and James can't see they are fisted, white-knuckled.

"Hey, James. I need to get out, amigo," I call when I get close enough.

"Sorry, Edward. I'm ready to go," he says to me. Then he turns back to her, "Maybe I'll see you again next week. I'm always here around this same time, every Friday."

She smiles up at him. "Yeah. I'm sure I'll see you again soon. It was really, _really_ nice to meet you, James," she says, saccharine sweetness dripping from her tone. I think the extra 'really' was for my benefit. I roll my lips together to keep from saying something sarcastic and turn to walk away. James rushes to catch up with me.

"How well do you know Bella?" he asks, falling into step beside me.

"Not really at all," I say. "Why?"

"Well, she was in your place when I first came in, so I thought maybe you two…," he replies, not needing to finish the sentence for me to understand what he's implying.

"Nope. I think she has a boyfriend," I lie. "There's a fucking huge Native American guy that's always hanging around." That part's true, but thanks to Rose and all her questions, I know now that he's Jake, her childhood friend, and he and his brother have been helping her move into the studio.

"Oh. Well, maybe I can find out next week. Christ! Have you noticed the tits and ass on her? Jesus, look who I'm asking. Of course you have. You're the number one Lothario around these parts," he says, laughing.

"Don't be an asshole, James. You've screwed almost all my waitresses. Don't start on my neighbors, too," I say, fighting to sound calm instead of pissed. "Plus, she's getting friendly with Rose. You really don't want to bring the wrath of Rosalie down on yourself, trust."

"I'm not scared of your big sister," he asserts arrogantly.

"Then you're an asshole _and_ an idiot," I say. There's the second brutally honest statement I've made today. My sister is fierce. Get on her good side, she'll do anything for you. Get on her bad side, she'll do anything to take you down. Laughing like he thinks I'm joking, James gets in his truck without saying another word to me, but waves as he pulls out of the parking lot.

When I back out, I can't help glancing over toward the red truck. I almost back into Rose's car when I see Bella standing inside the open driver's side door and leaning all the way across to get something on the passenger side. Fuck, my imagination did not need the visual of her bent over the front seat, ass up, in her tiny shorts. I am having enough trouble getting her off my mind.

I drive uncomfortably to Jenks' office and drop off the paperwork he asked for, then go home for awhile to shower, whack off and get ready for the Friday night crowd.

* * *

Later that night, I come out of the back room of the bar and stop dead in my tracks when I see Bella sitting in a booth with James. What the fuck? She's smiling at him as he hands her a beer. I swallow audibly as I see her take the longneck and tip it back, drinking a third of the bottle before setting it back down. She blushes and giggles at whatever James says to her while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

I know I'm scowling as I walk behind the bar. I didn't know anyone else noticed until Rose comes up beside me.

"Dude, we discussed. Leave the ballerina alone."

"What? I didn't fucking do a thing!" I say quietly through clenched teeth.

"You're shooting daggers at James, bro."

"That's because he's an asshole. He's just trying to fuck her. He's screwed every woman who works for me…except you," I say, adding the last part when Rose glares at me with a cocked fist. She will clock me if I piss her off. She's done it before.

"Well, if you went after her, you'd just be trying to fuck her, too," she states, then looks at me expectantly.

I turn away without answering.

"Hold on just a minute here, Edward Cullen. Are you hot for the ballerina in more than an I'd-really-like-to-get-in-her-pants way?" she asks. I immediately turn back around to see her waiting impatiently for an answer, arms crossed, head tilted, foot tapping. She learned that from our mom.

I shrug, my standard non-answer. "She seems like a nice girl and she shouldn't get screwed over by James…or anyone else," I say. I lump myself into the 'anyone else' category.

"Dude, you're fucked. She hates your guts. Might as well forget about Tiny Dancer," Emmett says, joining in from behind me. Why is everyone so involved in this? I didn't even know Emmett was listening.

"She said she hates me?" I ask, turning to look at him.

"Not in so many words. The word she used was Slutward."

"What?" I ask, confussed.

"I went over to say hi to her when James was ordering at the bar and she asked where Slutward was. You know, Edward minus the Ed plus the slut. Did you tell her you sleep around or something?" he asks, barely holding back his laughter.

"No. Why? What did she tell you?" I ask. Maybe she was lying earlier…maybe she does think of me…apparently not good things, though.

"When I was helping her the other night, she told me that she saw you kissing Tanya after you were over at her studio one night. She thought you were flirting with her at her place and was pretty surprised when she saw you kissing someone else right after. I told Tiny that you've never been interested in Tanya, but I don't think she believed me. I also told her you don't date." If I was a chick, I'd roll my eyes. Thanks for all the help, Em.

I look over at her. "Shit. Em, please just tell her the truth about James. I don't even care what she thinks of me right now. I don't want James talking her into bed tonight. She's drinking fast," I say as I see James handing her another beer.

"All right. When he hits the john, I'll sit down and talk to her," Emmett says. "You keep James away from the table for a few minutes."

I don't have to wait long as James gets up just a few minutes later. Emmett heads straight for Bella's table and sits down across from her. I watch for James, but I don't even have to try to get his attention on his way back. He heads straight for me after leaving the restroom.

"Hey, man. I got put on a new route today. I won't be delivering for you anymore, at least not for awhile," he begins, watching me intently, I assume to gauge my reaction.

"Huh. Really? Where'd they move you to?" I ask, raising my eyebrows, letting my mouth gape a bit…trying to look surprised.

"Way downtown. Boss said this is a step up for me, but, man, I was really liking this route, especially now with the hot chick next door to you," he says, still watching me closely.

"Yeah, you're moving in fast on her," I observe, glancing quickly over at the table where Emmett is still sitting across from Bella. She's nodding at whatever Emmett is saying and sipping her beer.

"Well, who knows when I'll see her again, so I might as well try to separate her from her clothes tonight," he says, turning to look at her over his shoulder. "And she is one fine piece of woman."

I nod, seeming to agree with him because I don't trust myself to try and speak. After several seconds of silence, I clear my throat.

"Well, good luck on the new route. Any idea who my new delivery driver will be?" I ask, tamping down my temper and disgust, fighting my urge to punch James' square jaw.

"Yeah, some new kid. Riley. I don't know him," James answers. Well, anyone will be better than James. I see Emmett getting up, so I cut James loose, telling him his next round's on me and I'll see him around. Then I turn to wait on someone standing at the bar.

A minute later, Emmett comes back behind the bar laughing.

"What?" I ask.

"She's _pissed_. She said to tell you that she's not, and I quote, a fucking imbecile; she can see through James. And she said to tell you to, quoting again, fucking butt out," he manages to get out between fits of laughter.

I feel my face break into a smile and even laugh a little. "So the goody-two-shoes ballerina cusses, huh?" I ask. Shit. Everything I find out about her makes me like her more.

"Like a sailor. Dude, you're screwed. You've got it bad, don't you?" he asks, whacking me on the back so hard that I lurch forward and have to catch myself on the bar. "Uh-oh. You're double screwed. Your fuck buddy just walked in." Emmett walks away whistling 'Taps'.

Kate walks straight to where I'm standing and sits down right in front of me. "Hello, lover," she laughs. "We still on for tonight?"

"Uh, I'm not sure right now, Kate," I say nervously, my eyes shifting between her and Bella. Bella looks up at me once and when our eyes meet, I smile. She narrows her eyes and shakes her head at me as if she despises me. Then she turns back to James with a smile. Well, fuck her, then.

I get Kate a bottle of her favorite beer and reach across the bar to touch her hand. "Actually, Kate, yeah. We're still on tonight," I say, smiling at her in the way that I know by now turns her on. "In fact, I don't want to wait until closing. Drink your beer and I'll get someone to cover for me for the rest of the night."

Kate's answering smile makes me feel like even more of an ass. We use each other, but normally I'm not using her against someone. Tonight I am. I want Bella to see me leave with someone else. I spare one final look at Bella, she seems to be ignoring me, but I think I see her peek at me out of the corner of her eye. I sigh and tear my eyes away.

"Rose, I need you to close for me tonight," I say, walking up beside her.

"Okay…..wait. Why?" she asks, looking at me. She turns to see Kate sitting at the bar and understanding dawns on her. Rose and Kate are not friendly. She turns back to face me and rolls her eyes.

"Hey, you know anything about James getting the boot off our delivery route?" Emmett asks, butting in as usual to a conversation that didn't include him.

I shrug noncommittally, non-answering again. Rose narrows her eyes at me.

"You do know something, don't you? I know you saw him talking to Bella earlier today. Now he's here with her and he's also mysteriously gotten a new delivery route. What the fuck is going on with you, Edward?" she asks softly. She doesn't sound mad, just curious …and possibly concerned.

I shrug again and then head over to the cash register to make sure they're okay on change before I go.

Rosalie follows me. "Edward, don't do this, don't leave with Kate right in front of her…not if you ever want to have a chance with her," she pleads quietly.

"Who says I want a fucking chance with her? What is she to me?" I say, irritated, as I slam the cash register drawer. But my stomach is in knots. I pull out my wallet and hand Rose $40. "Look, just get her a cab or something, okay? Don't let her leave with James and don't let her drive. She's sucked down four beers in about an hour. I'm out of here," I say.

"Edward - ," she starts again.

I close my eyes and put the heels of my hands to them. This whole night is giving me a headache. "Rose, fucking leave it alone. I never stood a chance with someone like her anyway. Let me be," I plead. She puts her arms around my waist and hugs me tightly.

"I love you, baby bro," she says. I squeeze her with one arm and kiss the top of her head.

"You, too. Thanks for closing for me. 'Night," I say, walking around the bar to Kate. "Ready?"

She gets down from the barstool and latches onto my arm. I force myself to smile at her and try really fucking hard not to look over at Bella on my way out. I almost make it, but at the last possible second I turn my head her way and our eyes meet again. She looks away from me immediately and raises her beer to her mouth. I turn back toward Kate and keep walking out the door.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Next update later this week - Bella's POV. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

BPOV

I slam what's left of my beer, feeling the cold liquid hit my stomach and slosh around heavily. I've had a pit in my stomach for the last few minutes – ever since Edward left the bar with a tall, beautiful woman attached to his arm. When I saw him leaving out of the corner of my eye, I turned to look at him, not expecting him to be looking back at me. He was. When our eyes met, I looked for arrogance and triumph in his striking green eyes …but that's not what I saw. He looked hurt…sad….angry. Immediately, I averted my eyes as I felt those same emotions begin swirling in me, making me feel like crying…and throwing up.

Since I first laid eyes on the beautiful one over three weeks ago, his face has haunted my nights…and most of my days, too. He's amazingly good-looking, almost too good to be true, with a body to match. Too bad he knows it. Twice before tonight he has smirked at me like he thought that's all it would take for me to fall down on my knees and beg for some Edward lovin'. Honestly, it might have worked the first time if I hadn't seen him making out with someone else an hour after he was flirting with me at my studio.

That night, he was so nice to me at first, helping me with the desk and the smoke detector, joking around with me. Then he ruined it by blatantly ogling my body before he left, making me feel self-conscious and objectified. After he left, though, I realized how hypocritical I was acting – I was doing the same thing to him a few minutes earlier…I was just sneakier about my leering. I decided to get over myself, go over to the bar and have a beer, intending to flirt a little with him. I was excited as I walked out of the studio, but there he was, leaning against his building with that waitress draped all over him. I was so embarrassed that he saw me gawking while she molested him that I avoided him for the entire week that followed…until today.

Inexplicably, I couldn't stand not seeing him anymore. After what I witnessed last week, I'm not sure why. I suppose maybe I'm a glutton for punishment and would prefer to see him even knowing I can never have him rather than not see him at all. It's irrational for me to feel this strongly after only one short conversation with him – and a conversation that ended badly at that. I can't figure out what's going on with me. I'm normally a rational and responsible person….which is dull beyond words.

Maybe I'm so fixated on Edward because he looks a little like a bad boy. It's probably a classic case of a boring, shy girl being fascinated with the handsome, rebellious boy next door. And by handsome, I mean swoon-inducing. Every time I see him, he's wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders and chest. Some days when I sneak a peek at him, he looks scruffy, like he hasn't shaved for a few days. His dark bronze hair always sticks up on the top of his head – a style he must like. I've seen him checking and adjusting it in his rearview mirror several times, watching as he carefully pulls at it until it looks as casually indifferent as he intends. One day I watched him mess with it for almost five minutes before he got out of the car to strut inside his bar.

But I digress. Today. I really did need to thank Emmett for helping me, but I looked out the window to make sure Edward's car was there before I walked over to the bar. He and Emmett and Rosalie were fun to talk to, but then Emmett and Rosalie abandoned me and left me alone with Edward. I was more than a little miffed when Edward had the nerve to smirk at me again and ask why I didn't bring _him_ some freaking brownies. He fast-talked me with a big explanation about the waitress and said he didn't want me to think badly of him. I was proud of myself for responding to that comment like I did, though. I totally threw it in his face and walked out swinging my hips a little more than usual because I knew he'd be watching. And I do have a pretty good butt from all my hours of barre work every week.

I wasn't planning to come back to the bar tonight – I knew I was pushing my luck when I agreed to it. But when James came by the studio around eight o'clock and asked me to have a drink, I formed a childish plan in my head to show the cocky-jackass-bar-owner that I'm not home, knitting in my robe surrounded by 27 cats while mooning about the hot guy next door. I never thought far enough ahead to guess what Edward's reaction to this seemingly brilliant plan would be, but I didn't expect the outcome I got.

I was a little disappointed when James and I first came in because I didn't see Edward, but Emmett came to say hi and assured me that Edward – who I called Slutward – was here somewhere. When I finally spotted him, he was behind the bar talking to Emmett and Rosalie and looking pissed off about something.

Then I got pissed at Edward after he had the nerve to send Emmett over here to the table to warn me about James like I'm a goddamn fourteen year-old girl who doesn't realize that all guys just want to get into my pants. If he's going to be condescending and overprotective, he could at least come tell me himself. He caught my eye from behind the bar and smiled at me, I glared back…even though I was a little pleased that it seemed to bother him that I was here with James.

A few minutes later, I heard a loud bang. Honest to God I looked around to see what it was before I figured out it was only in my head. It was the sound of my plan backfiring right in my face as Edward walked over to a woman who was actually gorgeous enough not to be completely eclipsed by his beauty. Emmett told me that he doesn't date, so I assume she's a hook up. She definitely wasn't a stranger, though; they looked pretty comfortable together.

As they left together, I was baffled by the anger, sadness and hurt coursing through me. Why? I have no claim on Edward. We've done nothing but exchange a few words and glances. And yet, as I sit here, I'm irrationally jealous, wholly nauseous and determined to get drunk to dull my senses.

Jesus, it's a good thing James is a talker because I don't think I have the ability to carry on a conversation right now. I'm halfway-listening to him drone on about his beer route and bars where he and his buddies like to get wasted. I nod absently and laugh when he laughs, pretending to hang on his every innocuous word, though I'm really lost in my own thoughts about Edward.

"I want a shot," I tell Rosalie when she comes to check on us. "Something yummy where I can't taste the alcohol."

She brings us shots of sex on the beach, does one with us, then sits down in James's side of the booth when he goes to the bathroom.

"Whatcha up to, Bella?" she asks, smiling at me.

"Drinking," I answer, grinning sloppily. I'm dizzy already. The shot probably wasn't the best idea.

"Yeah, drinking with a guy that I think you brought over here to drive my brother insane. And you succeeded. I've worked here since he opened two years ago and I've never seen him get pissed and leave like he did tonight," she says, the look on her face equal parts amused and annoyed. "Are you hot for Edward? Because if you are, why don't you two just fuck and get it over with?"

"I'm not hot for him. Well, maybe I am a little. But he's acting like such a conceited, bossy jerk. And I don't just fuck guys," I explain, leaning my face against my palm. I think I'd better slow down before I fall down. But the buzz feels so much better than the rejection I felt when Edward left with the glamazon.

"You don't just fuck guys, huh? Bella, are you a virgin?" Rosalie asks.

In a testament to the alcohol rushing through me, I don't even blush as I answer. "Almost. This is a secret, k?" I put my index finger to my lips and make the 'shhh' sound then giggle. "I've slept with exactly one guy, exactly four times. I don't get the big deal about sex. It was okay, but not _that_ great."

"Then whoever you were doing it with was doing something wrong, Bella," Rosalie says, laughing.

"Don't tell Edward what I told you," I say, suddenly alarmed that Edward might find out how naïve and inexperienced I really am.

"I definitely won't be sharing that information with Edward. I can't imagine what he would do with that knowledge. And it's kind of creepy for me to even think about," she responds, shaking her head and shivering slightly.

"Thanks, Rosalie. Are we becoming friends?" I ask hopefully, smiling slightly at her.

She nods, looking thoughtfully at me. "Yes, I think we are. How are you getting home, Bella?"

"Are you kicking me out? It's not even 11 yet."

"I'm not kicking you out, but you can't drive yourself home. I don't think it's a good idea for James to drive you home, either. He's been drinking a lot, too. Plus, I think he's screwed every girl that works here except me. Don't go down that road," she advises. "I can get you a cab whenever you're ready, or Emmett will drive you home. Okay, sweetie?" She reaches over to grasp my forearm and squeeze lightly.

"Okay," I respond as James arrives back at the table with another beer for me. Rosalie shoots him a look that is decidedly unfriendly as she stands up and walks away.

* * *

When I wake up Saturday, I am lying facedown on the futon in my studio office. I am fully clothed, which is a relief, since I have no memory of coming in here or whether I was alone or with someone. I sit up and look around. No James, thank goodness. Crap, my head hurts. I slowly get up and stumble over to get a Diet Coke out of the mini-fridge in the corner, then glance at the clock, stunned that it's almost ten. I sit at my desk and search in vain for some painkillers in the drawer, and finally remember that I have some out in my truck. I pull a big sweatshirt on over the sleeveless shirt I wore out last night, slide my flip flops on my feet and open the side door of the studio, impressed that the deadbolt was locked. Maybe I'm a smarter drunk than I thought.

I start to step out into the rare sunny Seattle morning, retreating back inside when I realize I can't see anything between the blinding sun and the blinding headache. I go back to my office and grab my sunglasses, then try again. I unlock the truck and lean across the bench seat to rummage around in my glove box. Finally, I find the bottle of ibuprofen and dump enough into my hand to hopefully put a dent in the headache. After I wash them down with the Diet Coke I'm holding, I have to sit back down.

Bits and pieces of last night are starting to resurface… I remember James smiled his smarmy, toothy grin at me as he suggested we go back to his place or my place… I tried to be polite when I turned him down but he was pretty pissed … Emmett stood at the table and told James he and Rosalie would get me home…I told Rosalie I would sleep in my office so I didn't have to get a ride back to my truck the next day … Rosalie walked me out, pushed me through the side door of the studio and yelled at me from outside until I locked it …Edward left the bar with a tall, gorgeous strawberry blonde. Oh yeah. That's the part I was trying to forget. Sheesh, why'd I have to remember it now? That memory makes my stomach churn and threaten to reject the Diet Coke I've been sipping.

And that, of course, is when the beautiful one makes his first appearance of the day, rolling into the parking lot with his windows down and Radiohead blaring from his speakers. Now my suck-ass morning is complete. I groan and hope he doesn't notice me sitting here for a host of reasons, not the least of which is the way I'm sure I look and smell. Tangled hair, smeared makeup, and stale beer stench – all time-tested repellents of the opposite sex.

He gets out and saunters toward my truck, running his hand through his messy, sexy hair and then waving at me. I don't wave back from where I'm sitting, perched sideways on the driver's seat of my truck, leaning my head against the cool glass of the back window. The too-familiar smirk twists his lips and the sunglasses he's wearing make him look even more beautiful than usual, serving as another painful reminder that someone like him belongs with someone like that model he left with last night…not with someone plain and boring like me.

"Rough night, ballerina?" he asks, clearly trying not to laugh. Does he not know my name or does he think it's cute when he calls me ballerina? He's called me by my name before so I guess it's not that. Ballerina….ballerina….ballerina. I can't decide if it annoys me or if I like it.

"No, the night was awesome. It's the morning that fucking sucks," I say snottily.

"Did you drive yourself here from home? I think you're still drunk," he laughs.

"Never went home," I answer, waiting for the reaction…in 3, 2, 1. Yes! There's the pissed off face. If I had the energy, I would be the smirker.

"What? I told Rose to send you in a cab. Goddammit! Did you go home with James?" he says through gritted teeth. I mentally add nosy to the list of adjectives that describe Edward.

I want to yell, but my head hurts too much. I settle for quietly seething through clenched teeth, hoping it has the desired effect. "None of your business, asshole. Who the hell do you think you are?" I get out of the truck, slam the door – then cringe when the reverberation causes a fresh wave of head pain – and stalk back into my studio, not realizing he's following until I'm facedown on the futon again looking at his giant feet beside me.

"What now?" I groan, tossing my sunglasses to the floor before turning my head to face away from him.

"Do you want me to get you anything, Bella? I could bring you something to eat," he says softly, trying to be nicer now, I guess. At least he used my name this time.

"Oh God, no," I moan. The thought of food makes my already queasy stomach start somersaulting. "No food. What I really want, Edward, is for you to leave me alone. You and I don't get along. Let's just be the kind of neighbors who politely smile and wave but never talk, okay? It will be easier for both of us."

He doesn't answer for so long that it startles me when he finally speaks. "Okay. See ya around, ballerina," he says softly. I sigh after I hear the side door close gently. Crap. I think I do like it when he calls me ballerina.

* * *

The next week is so hectic that I barely have time to think about Edward. Okay, that's a lie. I think about him a lot, alternately hot for him and annoyed with him. I don't see him though. In fact, I don't see anyone from the bar at all. They're probably all pissed at me. But I have no time to wallow. My best friend Alice, and her husband, Jasper, are back from their month-long honeymoon spent in Italy and…..Texas. She demands my undivided attention every night during the week to give me details of their time away while Jasper is busy catching up at work.

I begged until Alice agreed to teach some jazz classes at my studio, even though she has a regular full-time job as an interior decorator. So in exchange for my listening ears, she helps me finish prepping the studio for the open house on Sunday afternoon. We wash windows, scrub floors, print out class schedules and registration forms. I love her for so many reasons, not the least of which is how much she entertains me. All week, she talks and talks and then talks some more.

She talks about Venice. She talks about Rome. She talks about Florence. She extols the pleasures of married life, even though she spent ten days of her honeymoon in Texas with her in-laws at her mother-in-law's insistence. Her mother-in-law is so desperate for a grandchild already that she "accidentally" threw Ali's birth control pills away twice, then acted completely innocent. Ali has an appointment next week to get the shot instead, citing her belief that her MIL could covertly fly up here and ninja-mission her way into their apartment to try again. We laugh so much my abs are sore by the end of the week, and I wonder how I survived an entire month without hearing her voice.

Finally, Sunday arrives. An hour before the open house, Rosalie comes through the front door of the studio with an enormous vase of fresh-cut flowers.

"For you, Bella. For good luck," she says, handing them to me. I find a place on the refreshment table to put them and turn to hug her. "They're from all of us, but Emmett's not here yet and Edward wouldn't come over. He was mumbling something about only being allowed to wave at you from a distance now. Did you get a restraining order on him or something?" she laughs.

After I introduce her to Alice, I fill both of them in on the conversation Edward and I had last weekend.

"Oh my God, wait until I tell Emmett. Two days in a row you put the cocky bastard in his place. Good for you. Someone has to take the boy down a peg," Rosalie enthuses.

"I really wasn't trying to do that. Although he does seem a little vain," I say, a smile slowly creeping across my lips.

Rosalie laughs loudly. "A little vain? Bella, have you seen how long it takes him to perfect that ridiculous hair he's got? Jesus, he'll sit in the car forever doing it. He's constantly checking it out in the backbar mirror, too." She mimics his facial expression perfectly as she uses her hand to pretend to pull at her hair.

"I know. I've seen him sitting in the parking lot messing with it. But every time I see him, he's running his hands through it, ruining all his obsessive styling," I say joining in her laughter.

"Yeah, he does that when he's nervous or uncomfortable. I don't think he even realizes he's doing it – destroying his flawless style," Rosalie informs us with a grin.

"Okay, now I _have_ to meet this boy," Alice says, shaking her head.

"We're making him sound bad. He was nice to me when we met. And I think he had good intentions when he sent Emmett to warn me about James," I say, feeling bad for making fun of him.

"He really is a good guy. He's just a little arrogant…and bossy…and interfering," Rosalie says.

"And nosy and overprotective," I add.

"But he's also hot?" Alice asks, looking pointedly from me to Rosalie. Rosalie holds her hands up, palms out, indicating she's not answering that one.

"Yeah," I concede. "Hot and he knows it."

"He's been grouchy all week – suffering from a bruised ego at the hands of a certain ballerina. Can you come over later today rough him up a little more?" she laughs.

"No, no. I don't want to fight with him," I say.

"Why not? It's such excellent foreplay," Alice chimes in. I raise one eyebrow at her and glare. She was supposed to keep her mouth shut about my crush on the hot boy next door. Rosalie smiles knowingly at me, like this is old news, but thankfully lets the subject drop. Then she offers to stay and help finish setting up.

"Thanks, Rosalie. Now I'm going to owe you, too, just like Emmett. Well, I already owe you for getting me safely to bed in the studio last week and getting me away from James. What kind of nuts do you like in your brownies?" I ask jokingly.

"I don't want brownies, but I do want something from you," she says. She looks nervous as she looks back and forth between Alice and me. "I want you to teach me to dance so I can do a strip tease for Emmett for his birthday."

I stand in stunned silence for a few seconds, then Alice squeals and Rose and I laugh. "Bella, we could totally teach her to do that," Alice says excitedly.

"I don't know how to dance for a strip tease," I argue, feeling my face heat up.

"We could go to a strip club. Or just watch some porn," Alice suggests. "We can figure it out."

"Good god, Alice. We've got little girls coming through those doors in less than an hour. Quit talking about porn!" I say loudly.

"Who has porn?" Seth asks, walking in the door. Seth is my friend, my studio's hip hop teacher and my partner in the apparently bad sex, four times. We dated at the very end of college for a few months and I felt ridiculous still being a virgin, so I decided to sleep with him. It was not the greatest decision I've ever made. I didn't love him that way…I never felt about him the way Alice feels about Jasper. We were good friends though and we've managed to stay close despite the bad sex we had together.

I hug Seth and he kisses me on the lips like he used to when we dated, but there is no spark at all between us. Nothing like the night Edward grabbed my arm and brushed his shoulder against mine at the studio and I swear I could feel it tingling the whole rest of the night. Or at least until I saw that waitress rubbing all over him. I kinda lost my zing then.

Jasper shows up next, letting Alice put him to work. And then the crowd comes. Lots of girls and their mothers from the studio where I used to teach attend my open house. I'm not surprised in the least. Jane, the studio owner, is a major bitch who seems to enjoy inflicting pain on others, even children. There are several new faces, too, and by the end of the open house, almost all of my classes are full. I am thrilled with the turnout.

Once it's over, Rose pleads with us to go have a celebratory drink. "Come over to the bar for a drink – on me. We're not even officially open, so it'll be low-key, I promise."

Everyone wants to go except me, so I give in, sending them ahead so I can lock up. By the time I get over to the bar, they are already on their second drink. When I sit down at the table, Rose brings me a fruity shot and a beer. I do the shot and then I chug the beer, and they all applaud. I roll my eyes as Rose brings me another beer.

I look over to the bar where Edward is standing, arms crossed over his chest, smiling widely. When our eyes meet, he morphs his big smile to a tight, polite one and waves to me. Laughing, I princess wave back at him, then pick up my new beer and walk up to the bar.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey back," he answers.

"I'm really sorry about my tantrum last week," I apologize. I hope he can tell by the look on my face that I'm sincere.

His smile warms and his eyes are earnest as he replies. "It's okay. I had one that I'm sorry for, too. I didn't intend to butt into your life. I just didn't want you to get hurt, especially by someone associated with my bar."

"I appreciate that, Edward, but I'm not stupid enough to let someone like James hurt me. I know a hookup-happy manwhore when I see one," I say, smirking.

Edward nods, but his smile fades slowly until it's replaced by a frown. "Yeah, I guess you do. I gotta take care of some stuff in the back. You guys stay as long as you want. Rose will take care of you. Em's around here somewhere, too. Bye, Bella."

Confusion sets in as he turns to walk away. What did I say wrong? Then I remember what I called him when I was talking to Emmett, which I'm guessing Emmett repeated to him. Shit.

* * *

I struggle through the next week to make sense of my feelings for Edward. I really don't know him, but I am attracted to him. I really wanted to talk to him last Sunday at his bar. And he seemed anxious to talk to me, too, until he assumed I included him in my definition of manwhore. I wasn't even thinking about him when I said it, although from what I've heard from Emmett, the moniker is appropriate. Still, I never would have said it to his face…and the more I think about his behavior last Sunday in the bar, the more I think I must have really hurt his feelings.

I see him across the parking lot a couple of times during the week, but even though I smile and wave, he barely acknowledges me, only nodding in my direction. No smile, no smirk. By the end of the week, my feelings are hurt, too, and I am done with the whole fucking situation. When Rose stops by the studio Friday to ask me to come by the bar when I'm done working, I turn her down flat. I tell her to let me know when she has a night off and we can go out …somewhere else.

Classes at the studio start the next week, so I don't have as much time to obsess about Edward. I'm happy to be back doing what I love and the kids in my classes are great. Alice and I both comment about how smoothly everything seems to be going. I ride the euphoric wave of success all week. Until Thursday night.

Thursday Classes end at 9:00 pm, and I'm exhausted when they're over. Since there are no more classes until Monday, I decide to clean the studio tonight so I can have a couple of days off to relax. By ten o'clock, I've finished and have shut all the lights off except for the small lamp in my office. As I'm packing my shoes into my duffle bag, I hear a heavy knock at the side door.

"Who is it?" I ask, before unlocking the deadbolt. A cop's daughter never opens the door without knowing who's on the other side.

"Edward," is the terse reply.

I open the door and he comes storming through. "This is not going to work," he huffs angrily, stopping in the shadowy hallway to turn and stare at me.

"What isn't going to work?" I ask, shutting the door and then turning to frown at him.

"Our businesses being next to each other. My customers can't get in because of the mommy brigade out here to pick up the little ballerinas. They've clogged up the parking lot and the street out front and some of them are even parking in spaces that are clearly marked for _my_ customers." As he speaks, his volume increases until he's just one decibel shy of a yell.

"It's the first week, Edward. It will get better. I'll send out something asking them not to do the stuff that's bugging you, okay?" I offer in my most conciliatory tone.

"No, it's _not_ okay. It's been like this all fucking week," he seethes, still almost-yelling. That's it. His tone and his volume are uncalled for. He came here to fight, so I'll fight. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I reopen them, I take a step toward him, hands on my hips, to let him know that I won't be intimidated by him.

"Quit screaming at me," I almost-yell back. "I told you I would handle it and I will. Give me a freaking chance here, asshole. Have you been holding this in all week and that's why you're here yelling at me now?"

He narrows his eyes at me as he continues his tirade. "Yes. I've been holding all kinds of shit in lately where you're concerned. Fucking up my business is just the latest way you've completely infiltrated and screwed up my life," he spits. He tugs his hand roughly through his hair.

"Tell me what you want fixed and I'll fix it," I yell, refusing to cower even though I feel like I could burst into tears at any second. He laughs humorlessly and shakes his head before I've even finished speaking.

"Really? Can you fix it? Can you make me stop wanting to do this?" he yells.

He grabs me around the waist with both hands and pulls me toward him, crashing his lips down onto mine harshly. I stumble as he crushes my body to his chest, and he slides his arms all the way around me to stop me from falling. Once I'm steady, he moves one hand up to cup the side and back of my neck and opens his lips, pushing mine apart, too. I cling tightly to his shoulders and kiss him back desperately as a tingly warmth spreads like wildfire through my body and settles in between my legs. His tongue strokes roughly over my lips before moving into my mouth to meet mine. Our tongues move against each other, warring with each other, each of us fighting to get the upper hand. I reach one hand up into his hair and tug on it the way I've seen him do several times. He grunts softly and grips my hair with his fingers, pulling gently in retaliation. No one's ever kissed me this passionately before, and at this moment, I don't even care if it's only because he's pissed at me.

Without warning, the underlying tone of the kiss changes when he grabs and holds my bottom lip gently with his teeth, gliding his tongue over it slowly before letting go and moving his tongue back into my mouth. The kiss turns softer, our lips and tongues moving together, asking instead of demanding, giving instead of taking. It seems to go on forever, even though I know it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes since he came in the door.

He groans and abruptly pulls away. He lets go of me and steps away so unexpectedly that I stumble backwards and hit the wall of the hallway, staying propped against it because I don't think my legs will support me right now. We're both breathing hard as our eyes meet and hold for a few seconds before he lowers his eyes to the floor.

"Fuck. I'm sorry, Bella. I shouldn't have done that," he says quietly, rubbing a hand across his face. "If we could just work something out with the parking lot for next week that would be cool." Without waiting for me to answer, he turns and goes back out the side door, shutting it gently behind him.

I let my legs collapse, sliding my back down the wall until I'm seated on the floor. Stunned, I raise my fingers to my lips to make sure they're still attached to my face – they are. They are still burning from Edward's kiss, though. I've never been one for talking out loud to myself, but I can't stop the words that spill out now.

"Fuck is right."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading - please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

**

* * *

**

BPOV

After the kiss, I successfully avoid Edward for the rest of the weekend, staying away from the studio completely on Friday and Saturday like the coward I am. I rest… I read… I consider adopting 27 cats.

On Saturday night Alice and I go to dinner while Jasper plays cards with his guy friends. We go to her favorite Italian place, Antonio's, where she tries to ply me with red wine to get me to talk about Edward. For as long as I've known Alice, she's had a freaky ability to predict the future. Maybe I should say she _thinks_ she has a freaky ability to predict the future. She's wrong as often as she's right, to be honest. I'm a good friend, though, and rarely point this out to her.

Since the Sunday of the open house – the day she met Edward – she's been pressuring me to hang out at the bar more and get to know him. She's deeply disappointed that I haven't bent to her will so far. I haven't told her about the yelling and the kissing on Thursday night yet. I haven't told anyone about it yet.

Tonight she's claiming to have a feeling that Edward and I had some interaction last week that I have failed to divulge. I guess now she's seeing the past, too. If she pulls out a crystal ball or drapes herself in scarves and bangle bracelets, I won't be surprised. But if she does, even I can predict the future. I see it… it's becoming clearer… Bella will be leaving the restaurant without Alice.

"Come on, Bella," she pleads. "Tell me. You saw him recently, right? You're holding something back. I can tell." She's leaning across the table, begging quietly while trying to use her round, innocent eyes to get me to talk.

I am torn as I try to decide if I should tell her or not. Alice is my very best friend in the world. She has done more to help me through the last year of my life than anyone else. I'm not entirely sure I would have survived the last nine months without her.

I still don't want to tell her about kissing Edward, though. I want to talk about it with someone, I want another woman's opinion, but if I tell Alice, she'll never leave me alone about him. I'm just not ready for that kind of pressure.

"Ali, it doesn't matter if I saw him. According to Emmett, he doesn't date. And I told you I saw him leave the bar that night with the strawberry blonde version of Heidi Klum. He's unavailable in every possible way," I argue, trying to trap the sigh of disappointment before it escapes by gulping my wine.

"Bella, remember the first day we met, freshman year at U dub?" she asks, then pauses for me to nod. "And remember how I came right up to you and said I had a feeling we were going to be great friends?"

"Yes, it was the scariest day of my life. I thought you were escaped from an asylum or something," I quip, smirking at her. She rolls her eyes, but laughs. She knows she sounded like she had a first class ticket on the crazy train that day.

"I have a feeling about Edward, too. I think he could be your Jasper," she says. Her blue eyes are serious now and she's gripping my forearm a little too tightly.

I laugh at that statement. "Ali, you said the same thing to me four years ago when I met Seth. Except then you said he was going to be my Eric," I remind her. Eric was Ali's boyfriend at the time.

"Mmhmm, you're right. I did. And I was correct, wasn't I?" she asks, smiling smugly.

Oh, shit. I suddenly realize Seth _was_ my Eric… the nice guy who I ended up dating and sleeping with but didn't love. And, just like Ali and Eric, we stayed friends but didn't stay together romantically. She met Jasper right after she and Eric decided just to be friends. But even if Edward is my Jasper, I know I would never be Edward's Alice.

I shake my head slowly at her. "Edward and I are not gonna happen, Ali. I don't fit with him."

She rolls her eyes at me again. "You mean because he's hot? You don't see yourself clearly, Bella. You're beautiful, too, without even trying. More importantly, you're beautiful on the inside. And Edward couldn't take his eyes off you that day we were in his bar."

I shrug. "Still, there's nothing to tell. Nothing between us. I'll let you know if that changes, okay? Now, can we please just order the damn crème brûlée to share and talk about something else?"

She finally relents and we enjoy the rest of our dinner without mentioning the beautiful one. I know she's not giving up, though. Giving up just isn't in her nature.

* * *

The Full Moon isn't usually open on Sundays, so I'm surprised when I drive up the next afternoon and see both parking lots full. Oh, right, football season has started. Well, at least it looks like Edward will be too busy to notice that I'm next door. I'm afraid to see him, afraid he'll be able to see the effect the kiss had on me. I'm even more afraid that it will be funny to him, because I know there's no way he feels the way about me that I feel about him. I hurry inside after I park and quickly finish making sure the studio is ready for tomorrow's classes. When I get back in my truck without seeing anyone who works next door, I'm can't decide if I'm disappointed or relieved that I didn't see Edward.

Before I leave the parking lot, I text Jake to see what he's doing. He calls me immediately and invites me to his apartment to watch the Seahawks game with him and his girlfriend, Leah. I agree since I don't have anything else to do and the thought of a quiet evening at home alone doesn't appeal to me the way it used to.

When I get to Jake's, Leah immediately pulls me into the kitchen for girl talk, leaving Embry, Leah's brother, and Jake in the living room in front of the television. I don't know Leah that well, but the handful of times I've been around her, she's been nice.

"So, Bella, how are things at the studio?" she begins once we're seated at the kitchen table, waggling her eyebrows at me. Uh-oh. Jake's been running his mouth. He came to see me the day of my massive hangover and I ranted and raved about the beautiful one next door. Well, I didn't call him the beautiful one when I ranted to Jake; I think I called him the asshole next door.

"Fine," I answer cautiously. "How are things with you?"

"Fine. How's the barman next door?" she asks, leaning forward on her elbows, her dark brown eyes shining with mischief.

"Um, all right, I guess. I haven't seen him for a couple of days," I hedge, feeling my face heat from the bottom up. When Leah's lips twist into a knowing smile, I realize I'm about to get busted.

"Hmm, I don't know you that well yet, Bella, but I know that when you start to blush, there's a story to be told. So tell me," she insists. I start to argue, but she cuts me off. "I mean it. I want to know…and I won't tell Jake. I won't tell anyone. Cross my heart."

I debate internally for a moment about how much to tell, but as soon as I open my mouth, the last two weeks worth of antics come spilling out. I can't seem to censor myself and Leah is a captive audience. When I get to the part where Edward yells at me, she frowns and narrows her eyes. When I tell her how he grabbed me and started kissing me, she shrieks excitedly and leaps out of her chair. Then she has to make up a story about a big spider to appease Jake and Embry when they ask what all the screaming is about. She tells them I killed it, which Jake should know is a lie since he knows I hate spiders, but he must to be too into the game to catch it.

"So, how was the kiss?" she whispers once she's seated again. She leans across the table to grasp one of my hands. "Don't leave out any details, no matter how small."

"God, Leah, I don't think I can even describe it. I've never been kissed that way before. It was hot and angry and passionate at first. He was pissed off, I was pissed off. We kind of attacked each other's mouths, then I pulled his hair and he pulled mine back," I say. Jeez, I can feel my heart rate accelerate now just talking about it.

"Whoa, time out. He pulled your hair?" she asks, frowning again.

"Yeah. After I grabbed his hair and tugged first," I say. She makes me demonstrate how hard each of us pulled by yanking on her hair.

"Oh my God, that actually sounds kind of sexy," she says, sounding surprised.

"It was totally sexy. He kind of grunted when I did it to him and his hand was already in my hair, so he just gripped it a little tighter as payback," I say. We both sigh, then laugh as we agree that we sound like teenagers.

"Okay, what happened next?" she asks, leaning in again.

"We slowed down – we weren't angry anymore. He…we…I mean it was so intense… consuming …. perfect," I stammer, apparently incapable of forming a coherent sentence about the kiss. She laughs and reaches over to squeeze my hand. I shrug and exhale loudly before I finish. "Then he groaned and pulled away like I had the plague or something. He apologized and left – just left me standing there against the wall."

"How were your knees?" she asks. At my look of confusion, she clarifies. "Were you able to stand on your legs afterward?"

"No, they were completely useless. I ended up sitting on the floor for ten minutes after he left," I say, giggling softly at the memory.

"Oh, Bells. I knew it. I knew it when Jake told me how flustered you were about this guy. He said he'd never seen you like that. He thought it meant that you really detested this guy… Edmund?" she asks.

"Edward," I mumble, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face.

"Edward. Old-fashioned name," she says thoughtfully. "You gonna kiss him again?"

"I don't know. He only kissed me because he was so angry. It was probably either kiss me or strangle me," I reply, rolling my eyes cynically.

"No doubt," she replies sarcastically, shaking her head at me. "Honey, even angry boys don't kiss girls they don't like. Now, seriously. When are you going to see him again?"

"I don't know. I usually see him in the parking lot a couple of times during the week."

"Maybe I should come by one night and we can go over and have a drink," she suggests, raising her eyebrows at me.

"No, Leah! Oh, God, that would embarrass the hell out of me," I say adamantly. Besides embarrassing me, I would be totally humiliated if Edward took a liking to Leah and started flirting. She is really beautiful with her long, black, silky hair and fine-featured face.

"Okay, all right, settle down," she says quietly, rubbing my forearm to comfort me. "We'll wait until you're more comfortable. But, Bells, I am going to meet this guy someday, even if it's just to tell him how stupid he is not to notice the hot dance teacher next door." She winks at me as she stands and pulls me to stand, too. She hugs me lightly, then pulls me toward the living room. "Let's get in there before they decide we should be making food since we're in the kitchen. Don't sit by my little brother. He's got a huge crush on you and he can_not_ keep his hands to himself."

As we walk in to join the guys, Jake looks up at me. "Bells, when did you get over your fear of spiders?" he asks.

"Thursday," I say reflexively.

Jake looks at me like I'm crazy, but I just laugh. Leah squeezes my hand and I squeeze back, knowing my secret will be safe with her.

* * *

Late Monday morning I am working at my desk when my boss, Aro, walks up, leaning one hip on the edge of my desk. He's in his late 30's, okay-looking… and as slimy as they come. His dark hair is always slicked back from his forehead, his dark eyes are small and beady, and his Gucci loafers are a throwback to the yuppie years of the 1980's. He has a wife and kids, but has been flirting shamelessly with me since I started working here about four months ago, constantly complimenting my work or my hair or my clothes. And I've overheard him on the phone numerous times sweet-talking women, none of whom he called by his wife's name.

"Bella, I'd like to take you to lunch today for your birthday," he says, smiling down at me from his perch. I'm slightly irritated that he thinks it's okay to halfway sit on my desk…like I want someone's butt on a spot I touch all day long.

I tamp down my irritation as I answer. "It's not my birthday yet, Aro," I answer politely.

"I know, but you don't work on Friday for your actual birthday and I'll be in court the rest of the week this week. Come on. It's a boss' prerogative to treat his employee in honor of her special day," he says, smiling a little more widely, turning on the charm. "There's a great little bistro right down the street from your studio. Let's have lunch and then I'll give you the afternoon off as an extra gift. Maybe you can show me around your studio. I'm quite anxious to see what you've done with the space."

He asks me so unexpectedly that I don't know how to turn him down. I reluctantly agree, trying to sound appreciative instead of apprehensive. The thought of being completely alone with him makes me uneasy, but there's no graceful way out now. When I look over at Jessica, the other secretary in the office, she gives me a look that clearly says, "What the hell are you thinking?" I shrug at her helplessly as I shut down my computer and grab my purse out of the bottom desk drawer. She holds her hand up to her ear, letting me know she wants me to call later. I nod and smile as I tell her goodbye.

As we eat lunch, my level of comfort improves. The food is good and Aro is surprisingly easy to talk to. He praises the work I do for him and asks how things are going at the studio. I excitedly tell him how many of my classes are completely full and how many students I have. He seems to listen intently and he asks questions which convey his interest in what I'm saying. I tell him how perfect the one-story brick building is for my purpose and thank him again for suggesting it to me when I mentioned in passing that I'd like to open my own dance studio but was having trouble finding the right space. Aro is gracious and charismatic throughout lunch. I remind myself that he went to school to learn how to persuade others to do what he wants, and vow not to let my guard down around him just yet.

After we eat, Aro walks me to my truck, asking again if he can come see the studio. I agree…he is the landlord, after all. I'm not sure how to tell him he can't come inside the building he owns. He opens the door of my truck for me and puts his hand under my elbow as I'm getting in, I assume trying to be gentlemanly. I cringe as I see Edward drive by while Aro's hand is still on my arm. Edward's head whips around toward me as he passes, so I know he sees us. My antique red truck is not exactly inconspicuous. Neither is his loud, shiny batmobile.

I sigh as I drive to the studio, Aro following closely behind me. What a perfect way to see Edward for the first time since the kiss. I know Aro is his landlord, too, but don't know if they like each other. Regardless, Edward probably knows Aro is married, and it suddenly occurs to me that the intimate lunch at the romantic little bistro could easily be misconstrued by Edward.

I can't worry about that right now, though. I'm nervous about being alone with Aro in my building and need to focus so I can give him a quick tour and then get rid of him.

Aro pulls into the lot and parks beside me. As we walk toward the side door of the building, I glance over at Edward's side of the parking lot, noting that Edward's car and two others are there. Once inside my building, I take Aro into the windowless studio first to get it over with then quickly move on.

When we're in the studio with the front and side windows, I busy myself opening the blinds while he looks around. He stops in the middle of the room and makes eye contact with me in the mirror as I stand awkwardly off to his side.

"Dance for me," he says, his raspy voice echoing in the empty room. Instead of sounding sexy, it sounds…disgusting. I feel a prickle on the back of my neck. When I was a teenager, my dad told me repeatedly to trust my instincts in situations where I felt uncomfortable. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to get the hell out of here right now.

I wring my clasped hands together, as the feeling of discomfort starts to spread through me. I have butterflies in my stomach and shift from foot to foot restlessly. "Uh, no. I don't really dance outside of class anymore," I say in the most authoritative voice I can muster. It's not very authoritative-sounding, even to me.

He throws his head back and laughs. "Bullshit. I was driving by one night after you first rented from me and I saw you dancing through the window. I've thought about it a lot. I'd like to see it up close."

He steps closer to me, never breaking eye contact in the mirror.

"Please, Bella. Dance for me," he says lowly, his eyes roving over the reflection of my body in the mirror. I wish I had worn pants today instead of this skirt and high heels.

"Aro, I'm serious. I don't perform anymore. I just teach now," I say firmly, creeped the hell out by the thought of him watching me dance through the window. Thankfully, my voice sounds more definitive this time.

He holds his hands up. "All right, all right. Don't get mad."

He wanders into my office and sits down on the futon. "Interesting choice for office furniture. Planning a little recreational activity?" He actually winks at me when he asks that. I've passed uncomfortable and moved on to downright fearful…and also pissed off that he's putting me in this position. I would like to punch him, but I need my day job, at least until the studio really starts making money. I know that the anger is the emotion I need to hang on to now, just in case I have to fight him.

I plaster a generic smile on my face before I answer. "No. Just a leftover from college days. I don't really have room for it in my apartment and thought I'd keep it here."

"Are you dating anyone, Bella?" he asks, patting the spot beside him on the futon for me to sit. I sit, but in the desk chair instead.

"No time for dating. I'm not much of a dater anyway." I answer, twisting my hands together anxiously again.

He leans forward and smiles alluringly at me. I have the feeling he's used to charming his way into whatever – or whoever – he wants. "Well, I'm sure you have certain physical needs. You're a beautiful woman, Bella. I think you know that I'm attracted to you. I can take care of you and your needs…think about it. We could have the perfect arrangement," he says.

"Aro, I like working for you at the law office, but I'm not interested in anything else," I say. I am sure he can hear the quaver in my voice. I stand up and move to lean against the wall by the office door, hoping he'll get the hint and leave. He stands and walks to where I am, putting his hands on the wall on either side of my head, caging me in. Too late, I realize I have broken my dad's number one rule by panicking and letting him trap me in a spot I can't back out of. Sorry, Dad.

"As I said, Bella, just think about it. You don't have to make any decisions today," he says softly, moving his hands to comb through my hair. He makes a weird "mmm" sound and smiles at me as he runs his fingers through my hair again. When he leans toward me, I stand perfectly still, holding my lips, knees and feet tightly together. Moving his hands to encircle my neck, he kisses my cheek and then my lips. I stay still, continuing to hold my lips together tightly, hoping he'll stop sooner if I don't respond in any wa. I'm too frightened to think clearly, but I have a fleeting awareness of how different this kiss is than Edward's kiss last Thursday. My mind and body reject everything about this kiss, especially the man. I feel only fear mixed with repulsion and am momentarily afraid I might throw up on him. When he pulls back to look at me, the threatening look in his eyes makes my heart rate skyrocket. I know I've probably made him angry, but surely he wouldn't force himself on me. I feel the adrenaline start pumping and I'm suddenly having trouble breathing.

"I was hoping you'd be more receptive to this, but I can see you need time to get used to the idea. I'm willing to wait, beautiful. The anticipation will only heighten our pleasure," he says, trailing his index fingers slowly, deliberately down each side of my neck, across my collar bones and down each arm, finally resting at the pulse point on my wrists.

He leans forward until his cheek is pressed against mine so he can speak directly into my ear. I whimper involuntarily, but he doesn't acknowledge the sound at all. "You don't know how it arouses me to feel your pulse racing…to know I'm responsible for that. Don't make me wait too long, Bella," he says quietly, his voice thick and raspy. He pulls back, winking at me again and then is gone, the door shutting quietly in his wake.

I stand completely still for a few minutes after he leaves, willing myself to hold the hysteria in. When I'm sure he's gone, I kick off my heels, grab my keys and run out the studio's side door to my truck.

I get in and immediately lock both doors. With a mangled sob, I put my head down on the steering wheel and let the tears roll down my face, dragging air in through my mouth raggedly, trying not to hyperventilate. I concentrate on the sound of my breaths, keeping my eyes closed, trying not to think of Aro. I jump and gasp when someone taps on the window, twisting my neck to the side as I cower back from the door.

"Bella, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?" Emmett says. I nod and roll my window down a couple of inches.

"Is Rose here?" I ask squeakily.

"She should be on her way," he says, starting to look alarmed. "Why don't you come in the bar? Lunch crowd's gone. It's just me and Edward in there right now."

I shake my head and roll the window back up, resting my head against the steering wheel again.

"Tiny, please. You're scaring me. Come with me. Please," he begs, sounding far away as he talks through the window glass.

I swallow and take a deep breath, then sit up and unlock the door. Emmett opens it for me and I step out slowly in my bare feet. He starts to hug me, but I hold my hands up defensively and step back. "Okay, no hugging. Come on. Watch out for broken glass," he says, shutting my truck door when I've moved out of the way and then turning toward the bar. We walk across the lot to the bar's side door and go in. "Sit down, Tiny. You want something to drink? A water or something?"

"Dirty martini. A double," I answer quietly. He looks questioningly at me and I nod, indicating I'm serious. I sit on a stool at the crescent-shaped bar and wipe under my eyes, not surprised when my fingers come away coated with run-off mascara. He lays some napkins and a glass of water on the bar after he serves my drink and then uses the stereo remote to turn on the sound system, turning it to a classic rock station. I pick up the martini glass shakily and take three big gulps.

Edward walks out of the back room and sees me sitting at the bar with a drink. He smiles crookedly at me, then looks concerned as he gets closer and can see my face clearly. I know I'm a disheveled mess of tangled hair and puffy, red eyes above cheeks marred by now-dried rivers of black mascara.

"What's going on, ballerina? What are you doing drinking in my bar at two o'clock on a Monday afternoon?" he asks with a forced smile, keeping his tone light. He walks slowly toward where I'm sitting, stopping when he's a couple of feet away. I bow my head and drop my eyes, not able to maintain eye contact with him.

"Just got upset. I'm okay," I mumble, rubbing my hands up and down my bare arms.

"Are you cold? I can get you a sweatshirt," he offers. I nod, but leave my eyes downcast, reading the various words people have carved into the wooden bartop. "There's one on the chair in my office, Em," he says quietly and Emmett jogs toward the back. Edward sits on the barstool next to mine. "Is it okay if I sit here?" I nod again. "You want to tell me what happened?" I shake my head and close my eyes for a moment before finally raising my head and looking over at him.

Edward's face is tense and his eyes are laced with worry as he searches my face and body. I assume he's looking for some outward sign of what's happened. I see his eyebrows quickly raise and lower when he notices my feet are bare. I swallow audibly and turn my head to face forward again.

Emmett quickly walks back to us carrying Edward's hoody. He holds it out behind me, saying, "Here you go, Tiny Dancer." I put my arms through the sleeves and Emmett slides it up, resting his hands on my shoulders when it's all the way on. I flinch at the contact and he pulls back immediately.

"Sorry," I mumble, directing my attention to the zipper. I struggle to get the zipper started, finally getting it to catch on the third try then zipping it all the way up.

"Where the fuck is Rose?" Emmett grumbles when he's back behind the bar. He smiles at me, but still looks concerned as he pulls out his phone to dial her. "She's not answering, but she should have been done with class an hour ago."

"It's okay, Emmett. I feel better. I'm just going to finish this drink and then I'll get out of your way. Don't bother Rose," I say, finally finding my normal voice and feeling calmer through the combination of the vodka and the warmth of Edward's sweatshirt. The sweatshirt smells freaking great, just like him. I roll the sleeves up a couple of times and push them up around my forearms. It feels a little bit like armor to me…like nothing bad can happen to me while I'm wearing it.

"You're not in the way. Stay as long as you like. What time do you have class tonight?" Edward asks.

"Five. Crap. I didn't lock the studio," I say, alarmed. My eyes dart from Emmett to Edward as I wonder which one of them I'll have to ask to come back with me to check and make sure Aro didn't return.

"I'll do it. Give me your keys," Emmett says. Emmett and Edward exchange a look as I hand them over. I drain the last of the martini from the glass as Emmett heads out the side door of the bar.

"You want something else to drink? I could make you a Diet Coke just the way you like it," Edward says softly, swiveling his stool to face me.

I inhale jerkily, but try to sound stronger as I answer. "No, thanks. I really should go home for an hour and pull myself together."

"Bella, look at me," he pleads, not continuing until I look into his riveting green eyes. "Was it Aro?" I nod. "Did he hurt you?" he asks gently, his eyes intense.

I look down and shake my head as I whisper, "No, not like you mean."

"Mother fucker," he says under his breath.

"He just said some stuff and I got freaked out. It's okay. I don't think he'll do it again. I sure as hell won't go anywhere alone with him again," I say quietly.

"It's not fucking okay, Bella," he growls, but I know he's not growling at me. "He didn't touch you?"

"Not….that way. He kissed me. And he touched my arms…and my face…and my hair…and my neck." I shudder involuntarily remembering his touch, his kiss, the feel of his dry, rough lips against mine.

"Mother fucking son of a bitch. I could kill him," he mutters.

"Edward, please don't say anything to him. I need that job." Tears are leaking from my eyes again as I swivel my stool to face him.

"Fuck, don't cry, ballerina. It's gonna be okay. I won't do anything you don't want me to," he says, reaching out tentatively toward my face to wipe away the tears. He stops before he touches me and looks at me for permission. I don't say anything but lean my face toward his hand, closing my eyes as he cups my face with both of his warm hands and uses his thumbs to wipe the fresh wetness under my eyes away. We sit like that for a minute, until I feel one of his hands leave my face, then return with a wet napkin that he must have dunked in the glass of water. He uses it to wipe under my eyes and down my face so tenderly that a few more tears leak out, spurred by the sweetness of the gesture. No one except my dad has ever taken care of me like this. Until today, I've never let anyone except my dad take care of me like this.

"Edward, can I ask you for a favor?" I ask, eyes still closed.

"Sure. Anything," he replies throatily. He's blotting my cheeks with a dry napkin now.

"Will… will you kiss me? I don't want him to be the last guy who kissed me," I say, my voice cracking at the end. I keep my eyes closed tightly, too embarrassed to open them. I am relieved when he doesn't laugh. I feel his breath come out in a gust of peppermint-scented wind across my cheeks. He cradles my face in both hands again as he answers me.

"Yeah, ballerina, I'll kiss you. Are you sure?" he asks. I nod and feel him lean toward me and press his lips against mine gingerly, chastely. I feel the same tingle on my lips that I felt the last time, but there's no spreading wildfire since he's kissing me like he would kiss his grandma. He holds his lips to mine for a moment and then he pulls back, dropping his hands from my face. I open my eyes and lift one side of my lips in a half-hearted smile. "Better?" he asks, his lips turned up slightly, but not really smiling.

"A little…No, actually, not really at all. What the hell kind of pathetic kiss was that? I wanted a real kiss, so I don't have to think anymore about Aro kissing me with his nasty, thin, chapped lips…touching me with his stubby-fingered, hairy-ape hands," I complain, frowning.

Edward chuckles, smiling for real this time. "Okay, feisty ballerina, that sounds more like you. Now where did he touch you? Here?" he asks, gently stroking my face with his fingers as I nod and inhale shakily. "Show me where else."

I take his hands and move them to my hair. He drags his hands slowly through my hair several times, never breaking eye contact with me. "Then where?" I reach for his hands again, and move them back down my face, latching onto both of his index fingers and using them to write over the imaginary lines Aro drew down my neck and across my collar bones, then I straighten my arms and motion for him to continue down my arms. When he reaches my wrists, he wraps his whole hands around them before he slides his hands down to hold mine securely but not tightly. "I'm going to really kiss you this time, okay? If you want me to stop, you just squeeze my hand, ballerina."

I close my eyes as he leans toward me. I feel his lips hover in front of mine, almost touching, his warm breath tickling my skin, then he glides his lips back and forth over mine twice before settling in and moving his lips against mine, tracing my lips with his tongue until I open them and let him through. He moves his tongue and lips slowly, sweetly against mine, letting go of one hand after a minute to reach up and grasp the nape of my neck, stroking the skin under my hair softly with his thumb as he continues kissing me. He twists his other hand so that our fingers intertwine and he grips mine tightly. I revel in returning the kiss, letting the fire finally spreading through my body overtake the memory of the fear I felt during Aro's kiss. I feel him scoot his body closer to mine and I reach up with my free hand to hang on to his neck, leaning toward him a little more.

He pulls back for a second and my eyes pop open. His fiery green eyes are looking back at me. He leans toward me again, tilting his head to change the angle of our kiss. I let my eyes close when I feel the hand he has on my neck pulling me toward him. Our lips open immediately this time, eager to reconnect. Unlike earlier with Aro, my adrenaline rush and rapid heartbeat are now driven by desire. Remembering what Edward did to me a few nights ago, I use my lips to pull at his bottom lip gently, delighting in the low moan that escapes from his mouth into mine. I let go of his lip and move my hand to his jaw as I kiss him hungrily again, gratified when he responds by pressing his lips more forcefully against mine. Just when I feel like I will have to pull away to catch my breath, the side door of the bar opens.

"Edward, what the fuck are you doing? Emmett said you were in here comforting her," Rosalie yells from right inside the door. Edward and I pull apart slowly, breathing rapidly, looking in each other's eyes. I smile at him and he grins right back, squeezing my hand quickly before letting go.

"Hey, Rose. We were just talking, weren't we, ballerina?" he calls, never moving his eyes from mine.

I chuckle once and see Edward's eyes light up before I answer. "Yeah, talking. Well, I need to get going. I have classes starting in a couple of hours," I say, standing up and starting to unzip the hoody. Edward places his hand over mine, stilling my movement.

"Keep it for now," Edward says quietly to me. "I'll get it later."

"Bella, I'm going to hang out with you at the studio until classes start tonight. I'm sure my boss won't mind. In fact, he's so understanding, he probably won't even dock me," Rose says from her position by the door, laughing.

"Usually when I pay you for not working you're at least here," Edward says, turning his head and smirking at her. "Fine. Go with Bella."

As Rose and I head out the side door, I turn back around to look at him. He's still sitting at the bar, watching us leave. "Edward, thanks for the favor," I say, smiling at him.

"Sure, Bella. Anytime," he says, smiling back.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading...please review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for all the favorites and alerts! Extra big love to the reviewers...I love hearing what you guys think! **

**I split this chap in half because it was getting too long and the second half needed a little more editing...I'll try to post it before the weekend. :)**

**I don't own Twilight.**

**

* * *

**

EPOV

As the door shuts behind Bella and Rose, I get up from the barstool and readjust myself. My dick has a mind of its own around the ballerina and reacts to her whether I want it to or not. Goddamn, even I know that it's not appropriate for me to have a hard-on when Bella's just practically been assaulted by Aro.

Once I'm a little more comfortable, I move to the side windows to watch the girls walk across the parking lot to the studio. I exhale and try to let the anxiety go. My gut is twisted into knots again, like it is most of the time around Bella, but for a different reason today. I'm not sure why I feel so protective of this tiny person who I barely even know. I pacify myself with the knowledge that for right now she's fine. I know Rose will stay with her the rest of the afternoon and take care of her.

When I first saw her sitting at the bar this afternoon, I was so fucking happy to see her here that it didn't register with me that something was wrong. Then I really looked at her. Her hair was messed up, there were black smudges under her eyes. Jesus, it scared the ever-loving shit out of me. And the blank – no, fucking _vacant_ – look on her face almost stopped my heart.

The way I feel about her confuses the hell out of me. _She_ confuses the hell out of me. Every time I think I've figured her out, she surprises me again. I started off thinking she was just a shy little ballerina, but she's so much more. She was haughty and ballsy when I first met her, pissed off the night of the James incident and the night I yelled at her about the parking lot, passionate and responsive the first time I kissed her, then scared to death this afternoon. She's fucking tough, though, and she pulled herself together quickly once she was in here with Emmett and me. I hope it's because she knows she's safe with us. The fact that she was brave enough to ask for what she wanted, what she needed, makes me like her even more.

Jesus, now my chest hurts. Why does just thinking about her make me feel like I can't catch my breath?

I let my mind drift for a minute to the kiss we shared today. Hell. If I thought before this afternoon that I could escape the way she makes me feel, I am now disabused of that idea. I told myself the first kiss – which was really more of an attack on my part – was a fluke. There's no way I could really feel like that about the ballerina after just one kiss. I was completely fucking wrong. After kissing her again today, feeling the way her mouth moved with mine, her hand felt in mine, there's no way I'm not doing that again. And she was breathing just as heavily as I was when we pulled apart.

I hear Emmett's footsteps as he comes to stand behind me. "How's Tiny Dancer?" he asks, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Better, I think. Fuck, I thought she was going into shock at first. How'd she get in here?" I ask.

"I brought her in. She was sitting in her truck with the doors locked, crying. I talked her into getting out and coming in here to wait for Rose, but she wouldn't let me touch her. Did she tell you what happened?" he asks as we both watch Rose unlock the studio door and disappear inside with Bella.

"Kind of. I'm not sure if she wants me to tell though," I answer, unwilling to betray her confidence – even to my best friend.

"I can guess. I saw Aro leave her studio a few minutes before I found her. I checked the studio before I locked up. No signs of a struggle other than her shoes lying in the middle of the floor, so I figure he must have just scared her," Emmett says.

"Basically," I answer, feeling my ire and anxiety return. I turn away from the window to look at Emmett. "I could seriously kill the mother fucker right now, but she asked me to leave it alone. She's still planning to work in his office!"

"Dude, you're gonna have to calm down. You'll just piss her off if you go all A-Team to the rescue here. Let Rose work on her. She'll be able to talk some sense into Tiny," Emmett reasons. I hate it when he's right.

"Bella would be really ticked at me if I got her fired, huh?" I ask.

"Yep. It looked like you were making another kind of progress with her today, though," he says, making kissing noises and laughing.

"Shut up, dickhead," I say, but I can't help laughing with him. "Come on, we need to finish stocking the coolers before happy hour."

* * *

When Rose comes back from Bella's studio, the bar is fairly crowded with people watching Monday Night Football. She comes behind the bar to tell me that Bella's doing okay and that we'll talk when the bar's not so busy. I normally make pretty good business decisions so it alarms me that I briefly consider shutting the whole fucking bar down so I can hear what's going on with Bella right now.

When the crowd finally thins out around eight-thirty, Rose sits down on a barstool across from me. I lean against the backbar with my arms crossed over my chest.

"She's going to be all right," she says, holding up a hand when I start to talk. "He propositioned her and scared her, but other than a kiss she didn't return and some face fondling he didn't touch her. She's getting over the fear and getting more pissed off, which is good. I programmed all of our numbers into her cell, and she gave me an extra key to her studio, you know, just in case. I have permission to use it immediately if I ever see Aro's car here again," she says.

I nod. "Good. She shouldn't continue working for him, you know," I say gravelly.

"I know. I'm working on it," she responds. I nod again. Rose takes a deep breath and suddenly looks like she might start crying, so I uncross my arms and move up to the front bar. I'm not sure I've ever seen her cry when she wasn't trying to manipulate our parents. I don't know how to comfort her when she's really upset. I stand awkwardly in front of her, finally resting my hands on the top of the bar near, but not touching, her elbows.

"Rose, are you-," I begin, but she waves me off and starts talking again.

"Edward, whatever you did for her this afternoon, she's grateful….I'm grateful."

"I didn't do anything. Just talked to her," I mumble. For the last couple of hours, I've been thinking about how inadequate my response this afternoon really was. I probably didn't say the right things to her. I probably shouldn't have kissed her. I wouldn't have if she hadn't asked…not today anyway. Rose has blinked her tears away and now she cocks her head amusedly at me like she knows I'm lying. I guess since she saw us going at it with our lips, she does know I'm lying. I stand up straighter, sliding my hands back toward me, away from Rose.

"It helped her," she says simply, reaching a hand across the bar to grasp my forearm, not letting me escape the emotion-laden conversation like I hoped to. "Edward, she's important to me. I really like her and I haven't met any women that I really like for a long time. She's different, E."

"Rose, I - ," I start. She clutches my forearm tighter, shutting me up.

"So I'm asking you, please, get to know her, be her friend before you decide to take her to bed. And if you really want to have a chance with her, stop screwing every third girl who walks in this bar and invest some time and energy in just one girl. Okay, I'm done. You can talk or tell me to fuck off or whatever now."

What makes you think I'll decide to take her to bed?" I scoff.

Rose laughs at me. "I'm not an idiot. I've seen the way you look at her."

I ignore that observation. "I really like sex. What if I can't just stop?" I ask. I know it's an asshole thing to say, but it is true. I have never put any limitations on myself with regard to sex and have never gone more than a couple of weeks without it. Although since the night I first kissed Bella, I haven't even thought of anyone else. I know it's only been four days, but I haven't called Kate at all even though we've seen each other almost every weekend since July.

Rosalie rolls her eyes at me and pinches my forearm lightly before she lets go. "Grow up. Learn a little self-control. Don't you ever want to have a real relationship?"

"I never did," I say, shrugging.

"I hear a 'but' in there."

"But I think I might now," I say, reaching a hand up to drag roughly across my face. "Rose, I'm not good enough for her."

"Quit whining. You're a great fucking person. You're just a great fucking person who happened to sleep with a lot of women on the way to his first adult relationship," she laughs. She's always amused by herself. "Spend some time with her, date her even. Just don't sleep with her. Not yet."

"Yes, mom," I say sarcastically.

"I mean it. Promise me," she says. She spits on her palm and holds it across the bar toward me.

"Fuck, Rose. You haven't made me spit shake since I was in eighth grade and you promised to get your friend Bree to let me see her tits if I promised not to tell mom and dad that I caught you and Brady Jones skinny dipping in our pool," I grumble.

"Exactly. That's how important she is to me, jackass," she smirks, wiggling her hand. "I'm not gonna wait all night, you know."

"Fine. I promise not to fuck the ballerina….for how long?" I ask. This is the kind of shit you have to iron out with Rose in advance or she'll get you on a technicality every time.

"Until I say so," she says snottily. My mouth gapes open. This is an indefinite screwing embargo? I figured she'd make me wait a month or six weeks, but shit, she's more evil than I thought. Now I'm just waiting for her to twirl her moustache and laugh villainously. Not that I'd ever imply my sister has a moustache. She'd punch me in the junk for sure, which, ironically, would make this entire conversation unnecessary.

"What if you die in a fiery crash?" I smirk, recovering slightly.

"Then you're free to go for it. But for now," she says, shaking her head back and forth slowly. Reluctantly, I spit on my palm and shake hers. Jesus, it's gross. There's a reason we haven't done this handshake in more than ten years.

"I'm not sure I even remember how to actually date someone. I haven't done it since high school," I muse, wiping my hand on my jeans. Now I have to go sanitize my hands before I can serve anyone.

Rose rolls her eyes and reaches across the bar to tweak my chin. "Google it, asshole. And get tested. I love you. Now let me get back to work before my boss sees me screwing around," she says, laughing. We head for the kitchen sanitizing station together. Rose is still giggling to herself and I'm wondering how the hell I'm going to keep from breaking this promise if the ballerina asks me to kiss her again.

* * *

I find out from Rose that Bella's classes are over at nine and make my way across the parking lot just a couple of minutes after. I go in the front door, weaving my way through the teenage girls that have just gotten out of class and are getting ready to leave, whispering and giggling as I walk through. I see Bella talking to the guy who teaches here – I think his name is Seth. I know from Rose that they used to date, but she stops talking to him and smiles my way when she sees me approaching. I feel something twist in my chest when I notice that she's got my hoody tied around her tiny waist.

"Hey, Edward. What are you doing here? Oh, crap, there's not another parking lot issue is there?" she asks, looking alarmed.

"No. I just wanted to check on you…and I brought you a Diet Coke," I answer, handing her the go cup I brought and feeling a little embarrassed that I'm doing this in front of another dude.

"Thanks," she says, smiling hugely at me and taking several big drinks through the straw. Shit, I shouldn't have watched her close her pink lips around the straw. And I shouldn't have continued to watch as her cheeks hollowed out while she sucked thirstily. She's going to be the death of me. "Just the way I like it. And I'm feeling better. Thanks again for helping me this afternoon."

Seth looks confused, but I don't care.

"Are you going home soon? I think Rose or I should follow you," I say quietly.

"No, actually. Seth is going to give me a private lesson, right?" she says, including him in our conversation now. "My weakest dance area is hip hop and I have to take advantage of having Seth here before he moves to LA to be a star."

"Bella, it's not a done deal," Seth says, looking ill-at-ease.

"Quit being so modest," she says to him, elbowing him lightly in the side. She looks at me as she continues. "Seth is up for a huge job choreographing and touring with a major recording artist, whom he's not allowed to name," she explains.

"Wow. That's great. Good luck, man," I say. And I mean it. It's fine with me if there are no male teachers at Bella's studio, especially male teachers that she used to date and probably slept with. "I'll let you guys get to work. Bella, why don't you come by when you're done?"

"Okay, I'll stop by," she says grinning up at me. I can't stop myself from grabbing one of the hoody sleeves and tugging on it lightly as I grin back. "I was going to wash it before I gave it back," she says sheepishly, blushing.

"Nah. You should keep it. It looks better on you anyway," I say, then realize I just gave away my fucking favorite sweatshirt. In the next instant, I realize that as long as she keeps looking at me with those big, shining, brown eyes, I really don't give a fuck about the sweatshirt. "See ya later." Whistling lightly to myself, I turn to go out the side door back to my bar.

* * *

"Are you going to sit in here the rest of the night staring at her?" Emmett asks from my office doorway. "It's a little creepy, you know? You've gone from not caring about any girl to being a ballerina stalker in just six short weeks. What? Don't try to look so innocent over there. Do you think I wasn't wise to you when you starting smoking every half hour right after she moved in? When you had to go to your car five or six times a night for some reason? You're as transparent as glass to me, E. You've had a crush on her from the beginning."

"I have not," I protest, not taking my eyes off of the window. Sitting here in my desk chair, I can see straight into the studio where Bella and Seth are dancing. "I wanted to screw her from the beginning. I still want to, but I think that's not all I want from her."

"It's all right, dude. It happens to the best of us," he says, chuckling.

"I don't even know if she'll go on a date with me," I admit, turning to look at Emmett where he's leaning against the doorjamb and grinning at me.

"She will. You're too good-looking for your own good," he laughs.

"She's going to come by when she's done tonight. I think one of us should follow her home and make sure she gets there all right. Make sure Aro's not lurking around." I turn back to the window.

"Want me to run interference with Rose so you can be the one to follow?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem. I have another little nugget for you, too. I just happen to know that Tiny's birthday is Friday. And I haven't told Rose that yet," he says, nodding at me when I turn back around to look at him.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"When I was inside her studio this afternoon, that Jake guy called and left a message on her recorder saying they should go out Friday since it's her birthday."

"Well, then she definitely won't want to go out with me Friday," I say sullenly.

"Start using your head, E. You own a fucking bar. Talk to Rose and that little Alice chick and have a party for her here on Friday. Jesus! You are backward at dating and doing shit for girls, aren't you?" Emmett asks incredulously.

"Yes, asshole, I am. How do _you_ know what to do for girls? Oh, that's right. You date my sister so she just fucking tells you what to do," I say, acting like an asshole myself.

Emmett raises his eyebrows at me. "Little defensive, aren't you? Well, that's a good sign. It'll come to you. If you really like her, you'll start wanting to do stuff for her on your own. And just for the record, I think she likes you, too."

"Why do you think that?" I ask, frowning at him.

He shrugs. "She wouldn't let _me_ touch her this afternoon. She let you touch her…and kiss her. Don't screw her over, E," he warns.

"Mother fuck! How come everyone assumes I'm going to screw her over?" I say angrily.

"Um, because that's what you've been doing to girls for the five years that I've known you?" he remarks, laughing again as he turns and heads back out front. I know he's right, and for the first time in my life I wish I hadn't always been such a dick to women. It makes me feel like I don't deserve a chance with the girl next door.

"She's not just any girl," I say quietly to myself, watching her through the window again, my jealousy flaring when I see Seth pick her up and swing her around. She laughs and jumps up and down when he sets her back down and I smile at that.

I smile even wider when I see her retrieve my sweatshirt from the chair at the front of the room and tie it around her waist again. Then she puts one foot up on the barre and stretches down over it, holding onto the barre with both hands and pressing her upper body against her raised leg. Fuck, she's limber. Okay, time to close the shades before I break my promise to Rosalie by talking the ballerina into bed tonight.

* * *

I am back behind the bar when she comes in, beaming, and sits down in front of me and Emmett.

"Well, hello, Tiny. Want a drink? And what's with the big smile?" Emmett asks her, smiling back at her.

"I'd love a water with lime. And I'm smiling because I finally, _finally_ got the six step. I mean, I knew it, but I couldn't really do it all put together. But tonight I got it. I was so excited that I was jumping up and down and Seth was twirling me around," she says, giggling as Em sets her water in front of her. She picks it up to take a drink.

She looks so fucking beautiful, all excited like she is and so completely different from the shocked and scared girl she was this afternoon. I just stand and stare at her until Emmett elbows my arm as he walks away to snap me out of my stupor.

"You want to hang out here for awhile? I'll follow you home whenever you're ready," I say.

"Edward, I don't think that's really necessary. I don't think Aro will bother me again today. I can just call you or Rose to let you guys know I'm home," she says, pulling my hoody from around her waist and putting it on. I've never let any girl except Rose wear any of my clothes and I never really got the whole thing where guys would think it was sexy for a girl to wear their stuff. I always thought it would annoy me…until now. Now I want to announce to every mother fucker in the bar that Bella is wearing my sweatshirt.

"I think we'd all feel better if you just let me follow you and make sure you get in safely," I argue, hoping I can get a few more minutes alone with her.

"Okay, I'll let you follow. Is this bugging you? Me wearing this here?" she asks, pointing to the hoody.

"No, why would it bug me? I gave it to you. You can wear it in here whenever you want," I answer.

"Well, you keep staring at it…at me. I…just…I mean, that one girl…or the girl who works here…I'm sure you don't want them to see me wearing your stuff…getting the wrong idea about me," she stammers, her cheeks turning rosy as she averts her eyes. "I am going to give it back. But I got kinda sweaty teaching tap in it tonight, so I'm going to wash it first. It probably smells," she laughs, finally sliding her eyes back to mine.

"I meant it when I said you could keep it," I say, slightly irritated. "Bella, I already told you there's nothing going on with me and Tanya. And the other girl is just a friend," I say, leaning on my elbows on the bar so I don't have to talk too loudly.

"Yeah, you two definitely looked…friendly," she nods, smirking a little at me and quirking one eyebrow. It's really fucking cute. I smirk back before answering.

"I'm serious, though, Bella. I don't like her that way," I answer, looking in her big brown eyes. Now she raises both eyebrows, making me laugh. "I don't know what you expect me to say…I'm trying to reform my Slutward ways."

She blushes furiously at that and says, "Emmett is dead," under her breath. I laugh harder and refill her water.

"Want something stronger?" I ask. "I could make you something that will put you to sleep when you get home. I'll drive you myself."

"No, thanks. I've got to go to work in the morning…I need my truck. I should be going anyway."

"Bella, about work. Do you want me or Em to go with you in the morning?" I ask, hesitant to bring it up, but wanting her to know she has backup if she needs it.

"No, but thanks for offering. That means a lot to me. Aro will be in court the rest of the week, though, so I probably won't even see him. And I do know some self-defense. I was taken off-guard today, but I won't be so stupid if he ever tries anything like this again," she says. She nods at me and although I search her face for signs of distress, I don't see any. She's calm and steady.

"You weren't stupid," I tell her, looking in her eyes.

I see her swallow. She opens her mouth to say something else, but Tanya hollers at me from down the bar with an order.

"It's okay. Go ahead. I'll just wait until you're ready to go," she says.

"I'll fill this order and tell Emmett I'm leaving. I'll be ready in two minutes," I say, smiling at her. I pull my phone out of my pocket and slide it across the bar to her. "Add yourself to my contacts? I don't have your numbers."

"You're not going to start drunk texting me, are you?" she asks, smiling as she picks up my phone.

"Probably. And, Bella, I'm a dirty, dirty boy when I've been drinking," I say, leaning across the bar toward her again and watching her blush start to appear. I laugh and go to fill Tanya's order.

Ten minutes later, I'm following Bella to her apartment. I follow her into the parking lot of a newer apartment complex and park next to her.

"You don't have to walk me in," she says, getting out and standing on her tiptoes to reach into the truck bed for her giant duffle. I come up beside her and grab the bag before she can stop me.

"I'm walking you in, ballerina. No arguments," I say, smirking at her. She starts walking and I follow her up one flight of stairs.

"Edward, I want to say something," she says quietly. "This afternoon, you and Emmett were so kind to me…but especially you. What you did for me…how much better you made me feel…I appreciate it. Thank you." She stops in front of what I assume is her door and looks in my eyes.

"You don't need to thank me…we're neighbors, right?" I ask, smiling at her.

"Right," she agrees with a laugh, unlocking her door and pushing it open. She reaches inside to turn on the lights then takes the duffel from me and tosses it inside the door. Before I know what she's doing, she's wrapped her arms around my waist and is hugging me. "Thanks again, Edward. Goodnight."

Before I can even really enjoy the feel of her little body pressed up against mine or get my arms around her to hug her back, she's pulled away. She smiles up at me from the inside of the doorway and starts to shut the door.

"I'm staying until I hear you lock the door," I announce. She nods, then shuts the door and I hear the deadbolt slide into place. "Goodnight, ballerina," I say touching the door, then turning to walk away. On the way back to my car, I glance through my phone contacts to make sure she added herself. She did: Bellerina cell, studio and work. I smile at the moniker she gave herself and decide to test it out.

***Bellerina?**

She replies pretty quickly.

***Yes?**

I smile as I type my response.

***U spelled it wrong. It's ballerina.**

***Didn't want u to confuse me with someone else.**

***Not possible. There's only one ballerina.**

*** Thanks, Edward.**

***Goodnight**

I put my phone down on the passenger seat and start my car, knowing she can probably hear my engine roar to life from inside her apartment. I smile the entire drive back to the bar, only working my face back into neutral as I'm walking in the door. If I go back in grinning like an imbecile, Emmett will be all over my ass and Rose will assume I've already broken my promise. I can take the heat from Emmett, but Rose has a tendency to hit first and ask questions second. My balls can't take any more punishment today.

My phone has been silent for the last ten minutes and I'm startled when I feel it vibrate in my pocket. I bite the inside of my cheek to hide the smile that breaks out when I see the text from Bella.

***Night, barman**

**

* * *

****A/N: Please review...and thanks for reading. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for all the alerts and favorites! **

**Reviewers, you rock! Except for the one who isn't reading anymore...she didn't rock. But she did amuse me.**

**I love hearing what you think, so please drop me a review! Give me something to read while I'm bored at work. **

**I don't own Twilight, just in case you were wondering.**

* * *

EPOV

The night after the kissing favor, I don't see Bella, but I catch Alice in the parking lot and suggest doing something at the bar for Bella's birthday. She starts kinda bouncing around… she's a fucking hyper little thing, and I know that she'll annoy me if I have to listen to this for too long. She kinda makes me want to put my hand on top of her head to hold her still. But I suppress that desire and we trade cell numbers so we can coordinate for Friday night. Then I go back inside the bar and smugly tell Rose what I've done.

She raises her eyebrows. "Well, well, well," she says nodding. "Someone sure is trying hard to impress the ballerina."

"Knock it off, Rosalie. You're the one who told me to be her friend. That's what I'm trying to do," I say, irritated.

"Oh, don't get your cranky pants all in a bunch. That's actually a good idea, Edward. I have noticed the absence of Kate lately, too. So unless you're meeting up with her somewhere else, allow me to congratulate you on your newfound maturity," she laughs.

"What are you now, my fucking life coach?" I ask testily. She's pissing me off with her constant need to comment on every single thing I do. I mean, she's usually right, but it's still fucking aggravating.

"Now that you mention it, yeah, I guess I fucking am," she replies impudently with a smile. "Kate?"

I huff before I answer her, knowing that silence is useless; she'll keep after me until I say something. "I've been avoiding Kate. I guess I'm going to have to talk to her…tell her we can't be fuck buddies anymore," I tell Rose, noting the look of approval on her face before she turns to walk away. But as the week goes by, I don't give Kate another thought.

* * *

Friday evening, I get the job of sending the text to Bella to get her over to the bar. It's a job I don't want and I immediately tell Alice I won't do it.

"You have to, Edward. She'll come if she thinks you're pissed off about the parking lot again," Alice reasons. I feel kind of bad for tricking her, but I text her anyway.

***Bella, can u come by? Need to talk abt pkg lot again. Thx.**

***Be there in ten. K?**

***ok**

Alice, Jasper, Rose, Emmett, and Seth are all assembled at the table where Rose has tied balloons to all the chairs. When the door opens, they all tense up, but it's Jacob, his girlfriend, Leah, and his brother, Jared, who come in, not Bella. They relax again and continue decorating the table with party hats and horns.

Rose also brought confetti they're planning to throw on Bella when she arrives. That shit is a mess to clean up, but Rose is so excited that I keep my complaints to myself. Tanya, however, doesn't. She's being a major bitch about the whole thing. I know Rose is going to deck her someday and just hope I'm around to watch, and then fire her. Tanya, I mean. I would never fire my sister.

Ten minutes later, Bella finally comes through the front door and the whole table shouts, "Happy Birthday!" I am leaning against the bar, arms folded across my chest, but smiling when she searches me out to smile at me. She goes around the table, being hit with birthday confetti as she hugs everyone, laughing as she swats away the hands that try to give her birthday spankings. Luckily, only Alice and Rose tried to give the birthday spankings. I would have been pissed if any of the guys had tried to touch her ass.

I walk over to the table. "Happy birthday, ballerina," I say softly when I get close enough.

"You! You were tricking me? There's nothing going on with the parking lot?" she asks, beaming up at me.

"Alice made me do it," I laugh, pointing at the tiny annoyance, throwing her right under the bus. Alice sticks her tongue out at me from across the table before she laughs, too.

"Thank you. This is so sweet. Alice said it was your idea," Bella says, jabbing me with her elbow. Fuck! I think I might be blushing…my face feels all hot. I reach a hand up to pull at the back of my neck, embarrassed.

"Well, Alice and Rose did all this," I say, waving my hand toward the table. "What can I get you to drink?" I ask, needing to get away until I can get myself under control.

"Beer, please."

"Anything for the birthday girl," I say with a wink and go to get it for her.

Behind the bar, I get a round ready for the table and ask Lauren to carry it over, while I carry Bella's beer back myself. I ignore Tanya's glare, not even willing to acknowledge her presence anymore – not since the night she practically ruined everything for me. The more I think about it, the more I think she knew exactly what she was doing that night, kissing and groping me in front of Bella. I hover around the table, not really sitting, but stopping to talk to all the people at the table. Jacob and his brother seem cool and I know I'm going to have to get on their good sides if I want Bella…and I definitely want Bella.

After awhile, Rose gets up to fix shots for everyone. I drink a couple of beers, but since Rose and Emmett are drinking hard, I need to be sober enough to help Tanya and Lauren if they need an extra pair of hands behind the bar. Everybody else is getting pretty lit, though.

About ten, after the lights in the bar are dimmed way down, Emmett gets up and goes to the small stage in the corner.

"E, turn on the mic. I have a birthday surprise for Tiny Dancer," he says. He perches on a stool, holding his guitar. I turn it on for him and go to sit down in the chair he was sitting in at the table, which just happens to be next to Bella.

"Okay, I learned this song in, like, two days, so sorry if it sucks. This is for you, Tiny. Happy birthday," he says. Rose whistles loudly right in my ear before he even starts.

He starts picking out 'Tiny Dancer' on his guitar. I laugh, but all the girls at the table say, "Awwwww," in stereo, making Emmett smile as he starts singing. He's no Elton John, but he's not half bad, either. Bella is smiling so widely that I think her cheeks must hurt as she looks at Emmett adoringly and then looks past me to Rose to mouth, "He's so sweet".

I stand up. "Come on, ballerina. You should never waste a serenade, even a cheesy one," I say, holding out a hand to her and smiling. She grins up at me and takes my hand, letting me pull her over by Emmett. Emmett waggles his eyebrows at me as I put my other arm around her waist and pull her close.

Bella looks up at me as she puts her left hand on my shoulder. She slides her hand further up until she's resting her forearm on my shoulder and her hand on my neck, her fingers gliding back and forth over the nape of my neck right below my hair. It tickles a little, sending shivers down my spine…directly to my dick. But I push those feelings down for the moment as I look down at her. This night is about her, not me. "I'm not a very good dancer," she says quietly.

I laugh loudly at her statement and she drops her eyes to stare at my chest. "What? You own a fucking dance studio," I say, wanting to kiss her because she's so fucking adorable.

"I mean this kind of dancing," she says, blushing. "I haven't done a lot of slow dancing, partner dancing." She doesn't raise her eyes back to mine.

I lift our intertwined hands to her chin and press gently until she lifts her face and eyes back up to me. I smile down at her. "Well, luckily for you, Esme Cullen made sure her son could take a turn on the dance floor before she would let me take the car for my first date. Just follow my lead, Bella," I say, laying our joined hands back over my heart.

"Your mom's name is Esme? What a beautiful name," she remarks.

"Beautiful name, beautiful woman, inside and out. Next time she comes around, I'll bring her over to meet you. She'll like you," I tell her. Shit, where did that come from? I've never told a girl I wanted to introduce her to my mom….now I not only said it, I also fucking meant it.

"I'd like to meet her. What about your dad? Is he around too?" she asks.

"Yeah. He's a surgeon, so my mom's on her own some nights. That's usually when she drops in….to hug and kiss me and criticize Rose," I laugh. "My mom and Rose rarely see eye to eye…unless they're both pissed at me," I observe with a wry smile.

"I bet that doesn't happen too often. Your sister is pretty crazy about you," she says, smiling up at me. "Thanks, Edward. No one's done anything this sweet for me in a long time," she says, her eyes shining.

"You're welcome, Bella," I say softly, looking in her eyes, my breath stuttering as her eyes dart from my eyes to my lips and back. Fuck. Will I ever get used to the effect she has on me?

We sway and talk quietly through the rest of the song. Since all her friends are watching, I can't pull Bella as tightly to myself as I'd like. I think Jasper would be cool with it, but Jacob is already watching me suspiciously. When Emmett's song is finished, she squeezes my hand lightly before she lets go to applaud. We walk back to the table, but Bella doesn't sit back down.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she tells Rose, then walks down the hallway.

I quickly get another round of drinks for the table, then wait for Bella outside the ladies' room door.

"Come with me, Bella," I say when she comes back into the hallway.

I hold my hand out, feeling the familiar surge of heat as he puts her hand in mine without hesitation and lets me pull her toward my office. I hand her the gift bag from the top of my desk and then lean against it while she opens the gift.

"I wasn't sure what to get you," I mutter, suddenly nervous that she might not like it.

"You didn't have to get me anything," she says, her lips curved upward into a smile. She glances up at me briefly as she unwraps the tissue around the antique music box.

She gasps as she sees what it is and winds it up. It plays a song from _Swan Lake_ and has a ballerina that twirls on top. The man at the antique shop said it was produced in the 1920's, and even I have to admit, it's kind of a cool gift. As soon as I saw it, I thought she'd really like it.

"Oh my God…Edward, it's beautiful. I love it. Thank you," she gushes, looking at me excitedly and moving closer. She sets it down on the desk and wraps her arms around my shoulders to hug me. This time I am fast enough to put my arms around her, too, and hug her back. She leans back a little to kiss my cheek.

I chuckle. "You're welcome, ballerina. Happy birthday."

"It's been a really long time since I've had a birthday this good," she says, hugging me tightly again for a moment before letting go and stepping back. "I guess we should go back out there."

"Yep, we should. Rose will assume I'm back here seducing you if we don't get going," I laugh. She looks up at me, biting her bottom lip, her bright eyes boring into mine. When she lets go of her lip and licks it slowly, I have to shut my eyes for a second to regain control. I smile at her as I open them again and grab her hand to pull her back out front.

* * *

I almost walk past the bar before I notice Kate sitting on a barstool looking at me….and looking at Bella. Fuck! I knew there was something I forgot to do this week. Bella must notice her, too; she pulls her hand out of mine and speeds up to get back to the table.

"Bella," I call softly. She turns to look at me. "I'll be right there." Her eyes dart over to Kate before meeting mine again as she nods.

I walk behind the bar to face Kate. "Hey, Kate. How are you?" I ask.

"Fine….Looks like I'm losing my sex buddy, huh?" she says.

"Yeah. I meant to call you, but I just never got around to it," I say, sheepishly. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Edward. Isn't that the girl you couldn't stop staring at a few weeks ago when I was in here?" she asks.

I nod somewhat reluctantly. "Yeah."

"So, that night, the intense, angry sex – it was her, huh?" she asks, pursing her lips to the side and raising her eyebrows at me. I cringe, remembering that I was insatiable and really pissed off that night. I put all my frustration with Bella into rough sex with Kate. I feel guilty about it now. Hell, I felt guilty about it then, too. Jesus. I met a ballerina and grew a fucking conscience.

"Kate," I say, starting to shake my head, but I can't really argue with her assessment.

"It's all right, Edward. We've always had a mutually beneficial relationship where we use each other to scratch an itch. I just didn't realize your itch had a name. I'd be willing to bet she's giving me the evil eye right now," she says, smiling at me normally now.

I look over to the table where they're all sitting. Bella's not looking over here. She's got the music box out of the bag and is showing it to Alice, Rosalie and Leah. I smile as I see her bat Alice's hand away when she tries to pick it up. "No, she's not. I'm not sure she thinks of me that way yet. I'm taking it slow, trying to be her friend first."

"Wait! Are you going to date this girl?" she asks incredulously.

"Eventually. If she will…she thinks I'm a manwhore," I answer, grimacing.

Kate laughs and says, "Then you better clean up your act, Edward."

"I'm trying," I answer, exasperated. Does everyone have to constantly tell me what an ass I've been the last several years?

She holds her hands up, palms facing me. "Sorry, sorry. Well, I'll be going now. I guess I'll have to find a new hangout to look for hot bartenders. Don't be a stranger…we can pick up where we left off if things don't work out with…"

"Bella."

"Bella. See you around, Edward." Kate smiles at me as she gets up and walks out. I'm a little amazed that I don't feel sad at all to see her go. She's very talented, after all. But before she's even out the door, my eyes are on Bella as I grab beers for us and head back to the table.

* * *

I pull a chair over from another table and wedge myself in between Emmett and Bella. I set her beer down in front of her and take a drink of mine.

"What?" I say to Rosalie, who's smirking at me.

"Who went shopping with you, Edward? I know you didn't scour the antique shops downtown alone," she says, leaning across the table. Bella is talking to Jasper, so I don't think she's listening to us.

I shrug carelessly…or what I hope looks carelessly. "I asked Mom for some ideas. I don't know what to get girls. She drug me to some of her favorite shops Wednesday morning, made me keep going until we found this old music box," I answer, feeling my face heat and hoping I'm not turning completely red.

"I figured. You did good, baby brother," she says, winking at me. "She really likes it."

"Good."

"Can't have been cheap," she remarks. I shake my head, but don't answer her out loud. I don't care about the fucking money. I just wanted to get her something she'd like – something no one else would get her. "Don't tell her how much you spent. She'd be pissed."

"Understood, coach. I won't. Can you stop talking about it now?"

"Talking about what?" Bella asks, turning toward me curiously. "Where'd your buddy go?" She looks at me with her round, innocent eyes and I can tell she's trying to hold the laughter in.

"She left. I don't think she's Edward's buddy anymore. Right, Edward?" Rose asks, trying to rescue me.

"Um, no. I told you, I'm reforming," I state, feeling my face burn to the tips of my ears this time.

"Is it like a 12-step program?" Bella laughs.

"No, just one step. No more sex for Edward," Emmett quips, laughing with Rose and Bella.

"Jesus, you guys, I know you're all getting drunk, but is it necessary to both attack and make fun of me in the same conversation?" I ask, getting irritated.

"Yes," they all answer together, laughing again.

I pick up my beer and take a big drink.

Bella leans over to whisper in my ear, putting one of her hands on my leg to support herself. "I'm sorry if I made you feel bad, Edward. I think it's great that you're….I don't know, what are you doing? I mean, besides keeping it in your pants," she giggles.

"I'm trying to be good enough," I say honestly, looking into her eyes and willing her to see what I'm trying to say.

"Good enough for what?" she asks, looking perplexed, her chocolate brown eyes twinkling with mirth…and tipsiness.

"Good enough for the right girl when she comes along," I answer, covering her hand with mine. She smiles at me, but sits back in her chair, removing her hand from my leg.

"That's good, Edward. I know you'll find the right girl," she says, then looks away from me and picks up her beer. Lauren brings a round of shots and it's not long after that that Bella and Rose become giggly and almost impossible to talk to….but they are funny, even though they are continuing to make fun of me and my intent to keep it zipped.

"Oh! You know who else is celibate?" Rose asks, slapping her hands on the table and almost tipping over her beer.

"Benedictine Monks?" Bella asks, dissolving into giggles and slumping down in her chair. She's laughing so hard at her own bad joke that she's got her arms crossed over her stomach.

"And Lenny Kravitz," Rose says, leaning across Emmett and me to whisper-yell the information to Bella.

Bella stops giggling and sits up straight with a gasp, her face shocked. "What? That is a terrible waste of a beautiful man," Bella says, shaking her head and taking another drink of her beer.

"Where do you hear this crap, Rosalie?" I ask grumpily. I could care less if Lenny's not getting any, but the fact that Bella thinks that's a waste while she's amused by my abstention definitely makes me grouchy.

"I don't remember. But I sure wouldn't mind trying to change his mind," she says. "I mean, really, that man is hotter than a jalapeno pepper stuffed with a firecracker on the fourth of July.

"I know. You know who else is hot? Eddie Vedder," Bella pronounces. That has nothing to do with anything they've been talking about, but Rose nods enthusiastically anyway.

"Sexy voice…and all that hair," Rose agrees.

"Eddie Vedder's old. And he's a shrimp. I was on an elevator in Vegas with him once and he's seriously shorter than Rose," I grouse. So what if Rose is almost five-nine?

"Oh, Edward. Shrimp, schmip. It doesn't matter how tall he is when you're horizontal most of the time. And we would be," Bella giggles. I feel a strange mixture of jealousy and arousal course through me.

Rose gasps. "Isabella Swan! I'm shocked! I can't believe you said that. Did you take your purity ring off or something?" she asks laughing.

"Shut up, Rose. I never had a purity ring. You don't know everything about me, you know. I'm not as innocent as you all think," she says. "I've been around the block a few times."

"Four times," Rose says, trying not to laugh, but losing the battle after only a few seconds. Bella joins in, her irritation of a moment ago dissolved. I'm not sure what Rose means by four times….four guys or four actual times? I close my eyes for a moment, willing my body to stop reacting to every goddamn thing about Bella tonight.

When I open my eyes, Bella is talking to Jasper again. I notice that she has her hand wrapped around her beer bottle where it's sitting on the table and is slowly sliding it up and down, up and down, up and down. On the fourth pass from the base up to the longneck, she rubs her thumb slowly around the mouth of the bottle, wiping away the moisture left on the rim. I groan quietly and pull at the denim covering my thighs, attempting to pull the material away from my dick. I pick my beer up and drink what's left quickly. I catch Lauren's eye and signal her to bring another round for the table.

Emmett claps a hand on my shoulder and leans in to talk quietly in my ear. "I see how you're looking at Tiny. Don't forget what you promised Rose," he says.

Groaning again, I arch my neck, letting my head hang backwards for a moment. When I raise back up, I answer him. "I won't. The last time I broke a promise I made to Rose, I had to take her to dinner at an expensive restaurant and to a concert; and she still pulled out some of my chest hair, just to amuse herself," I say. "I'm not risking that again. It fucking hurt. But Bella's not making it easy. Every fucking thing she does turns me on."

"I don't think Rose'll be too hard on you if you just pay some attention to Bella. She'll lift the sex ban before long," he says, patting me on the back. "Just….I don't know, Edward. Make sure you really like her first, okay? I mean, we're all kind of getting used to having her around."

"I already know I really like her," I say, looking at her again.

"Good. Then this will be a new experience for you," Emmett says, taking a drink of his beer.

"Newsflash, Em. Sex will not be a new experience for me," I laugh, having no idea what the hell he's talking about.

"No shit, dumbass. I mean sex with emotions involved. It's different," he replies.

"You mean it feels even better?" I ask cheekily. He thumps the back of my head lightly before he answers.

"God, you're an ass. I'm trying to be all deep here and you're being shallow."

"Sorry, Em. You're right. In my experience, it's always better to be deep than shallow," I snicker, picking up the new beer Lauren set in front of me and taking a drink. I barely get the beer swallowed before Emmett smacks the back of my head hard.

"What the fuck?" I ask. Bella turns to look at me, frowning, but amused, then turns back to Jasper and Alice.

"Quit acting like such a prick," Emmett growls. He's pretty even-tempered and it takes a lot to really piss him off, so I know I must really be acting like an asshole.

"Okay, Jesus, man. Sorry. You were saying that it feels better?" I ask, resolving to hold the sneering and laughing in for a few minutes. If he really gets ticked at me and decides to hit me, he'll do some serious damage. I haven't fought Emmett since the night we met at a party during college, and I never want to do it again. I'm pretty sure he cracked some of my ribs that night and he's even bigger now. Although the thought of Bella nursing me back to health is appealing. She'd look cute in a little nurse's uniform. Shit, I'd better stop fantasizing – he's starting to talk.

"Yeah, it feels better. I mean, not necessarily physically better, but it's a different kind of connection when you're with someone you really care about," he says. As he's talking, he reaches a hand over to rest on Rose's back and rubs gently up and down her spine. Even in her drunken state, she pauses in her conversation with Alice to turn and smile at Em.

Well, hell. I kind of thought all that talk was a load of horseshit. My dad tried to tell me how great it is being with someone you love during the big sex talk he had with me. I was in seventh grade and had already talked some chick into giving me a hand job and I couldn't believe that one hand – or one pussy – could feel better than another. Some girls were more talented than others, but the body parts were basically the same. But hearing it from Emmett, it must be true. I've known him five years and he's never talked about sex in this way before. I'd like to know more, but it's creeping me out to think about him having meaningful sex with my sister. I definitely don't want to know any more about them. I run through my list of drinking and poker buddies in my head – nope, none of them are in relationships. Curiously, I look across the table at Jasper. He seems all right and they just got married last summer, so he should know about this shit. He's definitely crazy about Alice – even though I can't imagine why. She's just so….perky. It's not fucking natural.

I wonder if Jasper smokes. I could take him outside and pump him for information. Maybe I should wait for another night, get to know him a little better first. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I've decided not to ask Bella out on a date for awhile anyway, trying to really stick to Rose's advice and get to know her first. It worked for Em and Rose – they were really good friends before they started dating last winter and Rose has said before that she trusted him so much because she knew he really liked her and not just her body. That's another conversation where I got way more fucking information than I wanted. But now I want Bella to feel that way about me. I want her to trust me and know that I really care about her…and that I'm not sleeping around.

I relax and enjoy the rest of the evening, watching Bella talk and laugh. She leans over to me several times to make quiet comments in my ear. Each time she does, I lean my head toward her and place a hand on her back, rubbing up and down like I saw Emmett do earlier. A few times she puts a hand on my neck or the side of my face to hold our faces together while she talks. I flirt with her, but I'm not handsy and I don't try to kiss her. I want to wait to kiss her again until I know I won't have to stop.

I tell myself that I should wait one month. One month to dote on her, do things for her while she knows I don't expect anything in return. Well, eventually I'm hoping that I'll get something in return, but for the first time I can remember, sex is not the foremost thing I want from a woman. I want her affection, her trust…her happiness. Oh, shit. I'm in bigger trouble than I thought. I pick up my beer to drink heartily again.

A little before one, I know Bella won't last much longer. Her eyes are starting to droop slightly and when she leans in to whisper something to me, her speech is slurred. I have my hand on her back again, but this time when she's done talking, she stays where she is, resting her head on my shoulder. I look across the table and see that Jake and Jasper are both looking at me; Jasper looks amused, Jake looks wary.

Emmett glances over at me and chuckles, then leans across the table to talk to Jake. Before he begins, he looks at me again over his shoulder.

"E, don't listen. I'm gonna talk to Jake about something that you promised Tiny you wouldn't interfere in," he says, looking around me to make sure Bella's eyes are closed.

I watch but don't listen as Emmett talks to Jake. I note with interest that Jake's girlfriend, Leah, leans forward to listen, too, but her eyes shift often to Bella and me. At one point, though, her eyes dart back to Emmett and she looks pissed. So does Jake. They both talk to Emmett, but I really can't hear between the quiet volume of their voices and the noise of the bar surrounding us. Eventually, all three of them nod in agreement about something and sit back. Leah whispers something in Jake's ear and he looks over at me. I'm not sure if Jake talks louder or if the surrounding noise is quieter, but I hear him reply to whatever Leah said.

"What? I thought she hated him," he says, frowning. Leah shakes her head at Jake and turns to look at me again, smiling this time. Jake doesn't say the next word as loudly, but I can read his lips when he says, "Women."

I hold my laughter in, but internally agree with his exasperation. I don't understand them, either.

"I think it's time to get the birthday girl home," Jake says to me. I glance down at Bella to see that her eyes are still closed, but they flutter open sleepily when I say her name softly. I nod to Jake and ask if he wants me to take her. "No, Jared quit drinking a couple of hours ago, so we'll take her." That's probably the best plan – I don't feel drunk, but I was drinking earlier. But when I look down at her again, I silently vow to her that on her next birthday, it will be me driving her home.

* * *

**A/N: As always, thanks for reading. Please review and let me know what you think. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I can't begin to tell you all how much I appreciate the favorites/alerts/reviews! I've been a giggly mess all week. I will get around to replying to you if you've reviewed, but my wifi was down until last night and I'm too lazy to sit at the desk pc to type stuff. I'm an in bed with the laptop kind of girl. :)**

**I heard someone was rec'ing me on Twitter last week – thanks! If you let me know who you are, I'll thank you properly. **

**Huge, enormous, gigantic thanks to Ironic Twist for rec'ing me in her story **_**The Harder**__**They Fall**_**. I want to go visit her and bring her flower and candy and margaritas! As I told her earlier this week, the goodness and generosity of this fandom never cease to amaze me! **

**As always, thanks for reading. Please review.**

**I don't own Twilight. I do, however, own the antique cabinet I was harassing my husband about. I like winning. :)**

* * *

BPOV

"Girls, we are taking a field trip Friday night," Alice announces before taking a big drink of her beer. Alice, Rose and I are in a booth at the Full Moon after dance classes are over on Tuesday night.

This has become our regular Tuesday ritual: beer and Tabasco fries at nine o'clock. Okay, so this is only the third Tuesday, but I think we'll continue. It's Rose's night off, but she says she doesn't mind spending it at the bar since Emmett's here. And it's an excellent way for me to get in some looky-looky time at the beautiful one.

The first week we came in, I prepared myself to see Edward flirting with the girls who routinely sit at the bar and try to get his attention, but he didn't really seem to notice them. I was afraid I'd eventually see him leaving with someone like he did the night I was here with James, but he hasn't. In fact, every Tuesday he's more attentive to our table than any other in the bar – he waits on us himself, he glares at the witchy bartender who groped him if she comes near us, and he even sits down with us for a little while. Last week he sat beside me for twenty minutes and kept stealing my fries. I tried to be mad at him, but when he smiled his imperfect, crooked smile at me and shrugged sheepishly, I ended up laughing instead.

"Where are we going?" I ask as I turn to Alice, tipping my beer bottle to take a sip.

"Whispers," she answers.

"Whisper what?" I ask, wondering why Alice and Rose are suddenly so giggly. I take another sip of my beer.

"Whispers. It's an exotic dance club….you know, for men," Alice answers. My beer goes down the wrong way and I start to choke and gasp for air. Alice whacks me on the back – hard – still giggling. Edward looks our way, curious at first and then alarmed. I'm sure he doesn't want someone choking to death in his bar….that's got to be bad for business. He starts to walk our way, but Rose holds up a hand to ward him off.

"Why there?" I manage to croak, still coughing a little.

"Recon," Alice explains. "To learn the moves so we can teach Rose. Emmett's birthday is coming up next month, right, Rose?" Alice says in her exasperated, get-a-clue-Bella tone. She uses that tone with me a lot. To be honest, she uses that tone with everyone, though. It frustrates Alice that everyone else can't keep up with her twisty-pathed thought process. Rosalie nods and looks amusedly at me, clearly enjoying my obvious discomfort.

"Oh. You think that's necessary? We could just make some stuff up," I say, trying to get out of it. I shift around in the booth, already nervous…and this field trip is still three days away.

"Bella, don't be such a prude, seriously. It'll be fun," Alice says. "And quit twitching."

"Fuck. Hide me," Rosalie says, all amusement gone from her face as she tries to sink down in the booth. "My mother just walked in."

As I turn around to look at the beautiful one's mother, I hear Alice and Rose discussing why Rose would need to hide from her, but I'm not really absorbing what they're saying. I'm too busy looking at the attractive woman standing just inside the door. It's immediately apparent that she's Edward's mom; she has the same sparkly green eyes, the same bronze colored hair. She's shorter than Rose, but taller than me. She hasn't spotted Rose yet, but it's clear from the beaming smile on her face that she sees Edward.

"Hello, sweetheart," I hear her say as Edward comes around from behind the bar to hug her and kiss her cheek. I can't hear what he says back to her, but he's smiling adoringly at her. He puts an arm around her shoulders and heads toward us. Rose is muttering under her breath about doing bodily harm to her brother.

"Rose, look, Mom's here," Edward says cheerily….with a smirk.

"Hi, Mom," Rose answers, not nearly as cheerily. "What are you doing here?" Whoa. Her tone is snotty and I tense up, expecting her mother to be offended…angry.

But Mrs. Cullen laughs and replies amusedly. "Your father and I were out to dinner with friends. He was called in for an emergency, so I thought I'd stop for a drink and see my babies. Now introduce me to your friends, Rose."

"Bella Swan and Alice Whitlock, may I present my mother, Esme Platt Cullen?" Rose says, in her best finishing school voice. Rose can be so crass sometimes that I forget about her socialite upbringing. Admittedly, I'm entertained by seeing Rose off her game like this, especially since she was having fun at my expense a few minutes ago.

"So nice to meet you, ladies," she says. "Scooch over, Rose, and let me sit with you. Edward, I'll have a beer." Edward looks surprised, but nods and goes back to the bar. "So you're Bella, the dancer?" She looks directly into my eyes. It's a little creepy looking into them; they are so much like her son's. Technically, I guess his are like hers.

"Yes, Mrs. Cullen," I reply nervously. For a second, I wonder if Dr. Cullen is as good-looking as the rest of his family or if he is the token clunker in the clan.

"Call me Esme, dear. I've heard a lot about you from my children." Edward reappears with her beer and fresh beers for the rest of us, then pulls a chair from the table next to us. He leaves it turned around backwards and straddles it at the end of our table, accidentally bumping his knee against mine when he sits down. The touch of his denim-clad knee against mine sends a blast of electricity up my leg, continuing all the way up my spine. I reflexively jerk my knee away then let it settle back to rest against his, savoring the sensation of warmth radiating through my body, originating at the spot where we're touching. Edward grins at me and presses his knee against mine twice quickly. I nudge his once, smiling back at him, then realize that a conversation is still going on at our table. I look back toward Rose and Mrs. Cullen, trying to ignore the excited fluttering in my stomach.

"I've never told her anything about you, Bella," Rose smirks, leveling a look at Edward. Edward looks like he might be blushing…but the light is too dim in here to be sure.

"My mom helped me find your birthday present," he says quietly, looking at me with a one-sided smile.

"Really? Oh, Mrs. Cullen, it's so beautiful. I absolutely love it," I gush. "It's one of the best presents I've ever received." Edward is smiling a full smile now, identical to the one on his mother's face.

"I'm so pleased that you like it," she says. She turns to Edward, "Run along, sweetheart. This is girl talk time. We can't talk about men the way we want to if you're sitting here." He gets up mumbling about women, but smiling, and goes back behind the bar with Emmett.

Esme leans across the table to speak to me. "Now what exactly is going on with you and my son?" she asks, her green eyes boring into mine with curiosity.

"We're neighbors. Sort of friends, I guess. I mean, nothing untoward is going on here," I answer, flustered. I feel my face redden with embarrassment.

"Nothing untoward? Bella, have you been watching old movies again?" Alice laughs, patting me reassuringly on the back.

"So you and Edward aren't…seeing each other?" Esme asks, looking confused.

"No, Mrs. Cullen," I reply, somewhat confused. I'm not sure why she would have the impression that her son and I are dating. Oh, God. I hope she doesn't think I'm one of the hook-ups. Just the thought of that will make my face redden even more if I allow myself to dwell on it.

"Esme," she reminds me sweetly.

"Esme. He's done several favors for me, helping me move in and stuff. And he and Rose and Alice threw me a great birthday party here, but that's it. Just friendly neighbors. Nothing else. No dates." Jesus, why can't I shut up? I pick up my beer and take a few sips to occupy my mouth for a minute before I blurt out how much I'd really _like_ to date her son…and do dirty things with him.

She frowns, studying my face. She shakes her head slowly, still just as confused as I was a moment ago. "Huh. I really thought….well, we'll just let him get there on his own, now, won't we? Slower than his father, that boy. And Carlisle was slow enough. I aged ten years waiting for him to ask me out our second year at Dartmouth," she says and laughs to herself, clearly reminiscing about her own romance.

"How is Daddy?" Rose asks, her face lighting up.

"Oh, he's fine. The practice is short a doctor right now, so he'll be on call a lot more for the next couple of months. I'll have more evenings to spend with you and your brother," she says, laughing loudly as Rose grimaces, giving her mother the exact reaction I'm sure she was going for. After a moment, Rose ends up laughing, too. Esme reaches over to pat her shoulder and Rose leans in to kiss her mother's cheek in an uncharacteristic show of affection. I inhale sharply, but quietly, as tears prick my eyes.

"Excuse me, please. I'll be right back," I say, getting up and heading toward the bathroom quickly before anyone can see the evidence of my poorly-controlled reactions. In the bathroom, I pat my cheeks with cool water and fight to get myself under control so I can return to the table. It takes a couple of minutes, but I am able to rein in the surge of emotion and leave the bathroom, hoping I haven't been gone long to draw any further attention to myself. As I pass by the bar on my way back to the table, I hear Edward call my name.

"Yes?" I ask, walking over to where he's standing and resting my hands on the bar in front of me.

"Everything okay?" he asks, laying his forearms on the bar to lean partway across it – toward me – and looking into my eyes.

"Yeah. Why?" I ask, frowning. Why does he have to be so observant?

"I thought you looked upset when you walked by," he says, still studying my face.

"I'm fine, Edward. Really," I say, forcing myself to smile at him.

"You're sure? Aro's not fucking with you again, is he?" he asks, narrowing his eyes slightly when he mentions Aro's name.

"Nope. In fact, he barely speaks to me unless it's to ask me to do something work-related. It's almost as if…you didn't say anything to him did you?" I ask suspiciously. Now it's my turn to narrow my eyes.

His eyes widen before he answers. "Fuck, no, ballerina. I told you I wouldn't. I'd still like to rip his fucking head off, though," he answers, laughing hollowly.

"But you won't. Because I'm fine," I tell him firmly, but I smile at him.

"Okay, okay. You're fine," he says, smiling back at me and leaning a little farther across the bar and lowering his voice. "Is my mom making you nuts yet?" His tone sounds serious, but his face betrays his devotion to her. I think he's proud of her and wants to know if I'm impressed with her. I am.

"Not at all. She's fantastic. You look so much like her. It's amazing," I say, propping my forearms on the bar, mirroring him, and leaning in so our faces are only a few inches apart even though we're standing on opposite sides of the bar.

"Yeah. Rose and I are each kind of carbon copies of one parent. It's fucking weird," he says, shrugging. And there's the answer to my earlier question. If Rose is a carbon copy of Dr. Cullen, then he must be gorgeous, too. Jeez. It doesn't seem fair for the entire family to be so beautiful. They probably even had a beautiful dog.

"Have you ever had a dog?" I ask before I can stop myself. Too late, I realize how out of left field that question sounded.

Edward laughs, dropping his head down until it almost touches the bar. When he looks back up at me, his green eyes are shining. "Yeah. We had a mutt that my mom found by the side of the road when I was eight or nine. Moose…that's what we named him. Big, dumb and ugly, but, Jesus, he was the best dog. He went almost everywhere I went until I left for college. Why?"

I smile happily at him, feeling better although I couldn't say why. "I don't know. I just wondered. You seem like the kind of guy who would love dogs."

"Yeah. I'd have one now if I didn't spend so many fucking hours a week here. It wouldn't be fair to leave a dog home alone this much. Maybe someday," he finishes, shrugging one shoulder. Edward glances over to the table where I was sitting and suddenly straightens up, pushing away from me abruptly. "Jesus, they're all looking over here." He's definitely blushing a little now and he laughs lightly as he shakes his head at me. "Nosy bitches." I laugh with him. "Don't tell my mom I said that."

"I won't. I really have to get going anyway. See you later," I say, turning to walk away.

"Hey, Bella, water or Diet Coke tomorrow?" he calls softly before I've taken more than two steps away from him. For the last three weeks, Edward has shown up after my classes are over on Mondays and Wednesdays with one of the two drinks for me. He always says he's just checking on me…being neighborly. I thought at first that Rosalie was sending him to make sure I wasn't afraid to be at the studio by myself after what happened with Aro, but I found out last week that she didn't even know he was stopping by. She thought he was outside smoking when he was actually spending a few minutes next door with me. It's sweet that he's trying so hard to make me feel comfortable in a space where I was so scared a few weeks ago and I hope it means that we are becoming friends, not just neighbors.

I turn around and smile widely back at him. "Surprise me," I reply, then turn back around to walk to the booth. I slide back into my spot beside Alice and reach for my keys on top of the table.

"Bella, what did my son want?" Esme asks me eagerly, looking at me with those freaky Edward eyes again.

"He was just saying hi," I hedge.

"Mmhmm. Very interesting," she says, trading a look with Rose. Rose nods as if this confirms something. I look at Alice, but she just shrugs at me and smiles. Suddenly, I have a horrible feeling that Alice and Rose have been filling Edward's mom in on my unrequited crush on him. Terrific. Time for me to get the heck out of here before they get a chance to really embarrass me.

"I have to go. It was very nice to meet you, Esme. I hope to see you again soon. Goodnight, girls," I say with a smile. They all watch me as I get up from the table. When I look over at the bar, Edward is staring at me, too.

"Nice to meet you, too, dear," Esme answers. Alice and Rose both say goodbye but I've already turned and am high-tailing it out the door. Behind me, I hear Rose say, "I told you, Mom," followed by all three of them giggling. I don't turn around – I already know they'll all still be looking.

* * *

Thursday afternoon, I'm working at my desk at the law office when the door opens and a man in a suit walks in. He smiles at me after he closes the door and starts to walk toward me, I assume since my desk is closer to the door than Jessica's, the other secretary in the office. I would guess he's a little older than me, with sandy blonde hair and light green eyes. He starts speaking as he approaches my desk.

"Hi. I'm Tyler Crowley from the Prosecutor's Office. I have an appointment with Aro," he says, smiling down at me.

"Yes, Mr. Crowley. I'll let Aro know you're here," I say smiling back at him. I call Aro and he tells me to ask Tyler to wait a few minutes…typical Aro power play to make the opposing attorney wait for him. Somehow I manage to keep my face and voice neutral. "He'll be with you in just a few minutes. You can have a seat if you'd like," I say to Tyler as I hang up the phone.

Instead of sitting in the waiting area, he continues to stand at my desk, talking to me, asking me questions: My name, how long I've worked here, where I worked before, where I went to college. By the time Aro comes out of his office, Tyler knows a whole heck of a lot about me. With a final smile aimed at me, he heads into Aro's office. I continue to work, wondering if it was my imagination or if Tyler was flirting with me. Jessica comes to talk to me as soon as Aro's office door is shut. She definitely thinks he's interested.

"You should flirt back, Bella, when he comes back out," she says quietly. Jessica is a newlywed and constantly badgers me about my love life….or lack of one. She wants everyone to be happy and in love.

Tyler is cute, and he might help get my mind off Edward. I sigh. Edward. Edward's nice to me, and he's slightly flirty, but he has barely touched me since my birthday three weeks ago. He probably thinks I don't remember the way he sat with his arm around the back of my chair that night, slid his hand slowly up and down my back, leaned toward me every time I spoke to him.

I'm really not complaining about how Edward is acting now. He seems to genuinely like me. He does sweet things for me, talks to me, occasionally touches me, but not like he did on my birthday. Right after my birthday, I was hopeful that something was happening between us, but now, I think that the flirting might just be part of his personality and that it isn't necessarily directed at me. Oh well. At least he didn't ask me to hook up, because I wouldn't have…probably.

Maybe I _should_ flirt back with Tyler. I haven't been on a date for over a year, if I don't count the night out with James…which I don't. That wasn't about wanting to go out with James. That was about wanting to wipe the ever-present smirk off the beautiful one's face. I succeeded, but ended up unhappy anyway.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't notice that Aro and Tyler have emerged from Aro's office until they are practically standing in front of me. Tyler hesitates beside my desk and Aro hesitates with him. Jessica reminds Aro that he wanted her to make some revisions to a contract she prepared for him and the two of them go into his office together, leaving Tyler and me alone.

"So, Bella, I'd like to buy you a drink after work tonight," Tyler says, smiling at me. He has nice pale green eyes…not as striking as Edward's deep green ones, though. But he has a great smile.

"I'd like to, Tyler, but I teach dance classes from five until nine tonight," I reply honestly.

"Really? Where do you teach?"

"At Studio B."

"I think that's where my little sister goes," he muses. "Angela Weber. Sound familiar?"

"Yes, she's in my ballet class tonight," I answer, smiling. "Small world. She's your sister?"

He laughs. "Yeah. My mom's second marriage. I was 18 when she was born. Kinda embarrassing, you know? My friends gave me hell." We both laugh for a minute. "Well, some other time, then…maybe?"

"Sure," I answer. And I'm serious….mostly. Maybe he'll be the perfect antidote to my Edward obsession. He says he'll be in touch soon and leaves after giving me another big smile.

I smile to myself at my desk and hope he really does call….mostly.

* * *

When ballet class is over that night, I'm surprised to see Tyler in the lobby area of the studio. Angela runs up to him to hug him as he tells her that he's picking her up because their mom had something else to do. Riiiiight. Still, it's flattering. And he looks really good wearing jeans and a t-shirt. While Angela's getting her stuff together, I walk up to him.

"Fancy meeting you here," I say, smiling up at him and hoping my hair is not a mess. I can feel a few pieces that have fallen out of the bun resting against the side of my face and neck, though.

"I have to take Angela home, but I could come back when you're done and take you next door for that drink," he says. I contemplate the outcome of that scenario…it doesn't end well. Even though I don't think Edward's interested in me in _that_ way, I think it would still tick him off if I brought another guy to his bar. He's unreasonably invested in my life for some reason.

I make a face, scrunching up my nose a bit before I answer. "Tyler, I know the bartenders next door and I really don't want to take a guy over there. They'll never leave us alone," I laugh. He nods understandingly.

"Well, hey, we'll just leave it like we did earlier. I'll call you, okay?" I nod, telling him that I won't be back at the office until Monday and turn to go back into the studio room for my next class. He didn't ask me for my cell phone number today and I don't offer it now.

Once classes are done and I've cleaned up the studio rooms a little, I pack up my big duffle bag with all my dance shoes and sling it over my shoulder. I switch off the lights and open the side door. When I see Tyler leaning against the side of my truck, holding a bouquet of flowers, my face breaks into a smile.

"Bella, I promise I'm not a psycho stalker. I just couldn't stand to think that I wouldn't get to talk to you until Monday," he says. I'll give the boy this: He's persistent. I laugh and put my duffle in the truck bed before taking the flowers from him.

"Thank you, Tyler. They're beautiful," I say. I'm suddenly aware that I'm standing here in sheer, black footless tights, black booty shorts and a red tank top. I have Edward's hoody tied around my waist, but it doesn't provide much coverage. And I swear I'm giving it back to him. Really.

"So can I have your phone number?" he asks, looking down at me.

"Yeah…or I have a bottle of wine inside the studio. You could come in and share it with me," I say, emboldened by his obvious interest.

"I'd like that," he says, smiling and nodding at me. We turn and go back to the side door. I unlock it and we go in, flipping on lights as we walk through. I go into my office and get the wine Alice brought me from the minifridge, two plastic cups, and the corkscrew.

"Let's go into the studio….music," I say. Really, I'm thinking there's no way I'm sitting in my windowless office with a guy I don't really know. It's the studio, blinds open, or nothing. I turn on the lights and the music and open the blinds. "Will you open the wine while I get us something to sit on?" I'm also totally putting some sweats on before I sit cross-legged on the floor and flash him my hoo-ha by accident.

When I get back with my old comforter from college that I keep in my office, Tyler's got the wine open and poured. He helps me spread out the comforter and we sit down.

We talk easily about inconsequential topics as we drink our wine. I find out a little about him. He's four years older than me, grew up here, but went to college in Colorado, works for the county prosecutor's office and adores his little sister. We laugh about silly things and I get a slight buzz from my two Solo cups of Chardonnay.

A little after ten-thirty, Tyler is ready to leave. This was kind of a perfect sorta-first….date? I'm not sure it was a date, but I feel comfortable with him and I like him….I just don't _like_ him like him. At least, not yet. But I give him my cell number and walk him to the door, glad that he doesn't try to hug or kiss me. Not that I'd never want him to, but we just met earlier today. It feels like it's too soon. I choose to ignore the evil part of my brain that reminds me how I wanted to kiss Edward from the moment I met him. I reason that just because my attraction to Tyler isn't as strong or as immediate as my reaction to Edward was, that doesn't mean it won't ever happen.

When I open the side door, the rain that was threatening all evening is coming down steadily and I giggle as I watch Tyler run through the downpour to his car. After he pulls away, I go back to my office and take my sweats off, leaving them there for the next time I need to cover up. It's not until I walk back into the studio to pick up our empty cups that I remember my duffle bag – containing hundreds of dollars worth of dance shoes – is in the truck bed…getting soaked now in the rain.

"Crap, crap, crap," I mutter, setting the empty wine bottle and cups down in the little hallway by the door. I put Edward's hoody on and raise the hood over my head then open the side door to run out to my truck. I grab the wet strap of the duffle and try to heave it up over the side, but it gets caught on the little lip around the top of the bed.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit," I cry, pressing my whole body up against the side of the truck to use both hands to try and get the duffle, thinking of all my dance shoes which are probably getting ruined about now. The hood of my jacket falls down and I can feel raindrops sliding down my back, my face.

I am startled when a bare forearm reaches around me and grabs the duffle, dislodging it from where it's stuck and swinging it out of my grasp. I whirl around to get a look at the bag snatcher and come face to chest with Edward…and he's getting soaked. Shit, he looks good with wet hair. I swallow, looking into his piercing eyes, unable to move the rest of my body.

"You're getting wet," he states simply. Uh huh, how'd he know? Oh, he means from the rain. "Let's go inside."

I turn and sprint back to the side door with Edward following. I take my bag from him once we're inside, dropping it to the floor and falling to my knees beside it, quickly removing shoes, startled that they aren't all that wet. Certainly not as bad as they could have been.

"Thank you, God," I mutter, then look up at Edward. "Thank you, Edward. I was afraid everything was getting ruined out there."

"Yeah. I was just out smoking and saw you having trouble with it. I'd better get back," he says, quietly, not meeting my gaze, not moving his feet to leave either.

"Hey, I liked your mom. She seems really nice," I say, not able to think of anything else.

"Thanks. She liked you, too."

Okaaaay. Why can't I think of something witty to say here? I stand back up and shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, pulling at the hem of my booty shorts to make sure no body parts are hanging out.

"Who was here?" he asks coolly.

Crap. He saw. "Tyler Crowley."

"Friend or date?" he asks, studying my various pairs of dance shoes lined up on the floor.

"Um, I'm not sure. We just met. He's nice….and he wanted to buy me a drink," I say. I giggle a little, involuntarily. He looks up at me now, gauging my giggle, I think.

"So he wants to take you on a date?"

I shrug. "He did. It's been a long time since anyone asked me out, I mean besides James and Aro. But James was an ass and Aro's offer was really more of a proposition." I laugh humorlessly after that statement. Edward is still eyeing me warily. His eyes slide to the door – to the floor by the door, to the empty wine bottle and two used cups. He turns back toward me.

"Bella, lots of guys would like to ask you out," he says, looking intently at me and shoving his hands into his front pockets. "You just met this guy?" He asks this like he's just catching up to what I said two minutes ago. I nod. "You don't know him, but you let him come in here, were alone with him, wearing…that, and drinking wine?"

He looks at my legs, and at the booty shorts that don't cover any more skin than boyshort underwear. I should probably tell him I was more clothed than this, but I'm getting a little sick of his bossy routine, so I don't. I nod again. This is not going to be pretty. I have a feeling that his over-reactive temper is about to make an appearance.

He rubs a hand over his face roughly before he speaks. "Jesus, ballerina. He could have….fuck….do you not have any self-preservation instinct at all?" he asks, raising his voice at me.

My eyes widen at this statement. "Of course, I do. He's nice, Edward. He didn't do anything wrong. _I_ didn't do anything wrong."

"Whatever. I gotta get back to the bar." He turns to leave.

"Why are you mad at me?" I ask through gritted teeth. He whips around to face me, his green eyes dark, flashing with anger.

"Why do you insist on putting yourself in situations where you could get hurt? James, Aro, now this Tyler guy," he says, also through clenched teeth. He has wet hair. And wet clothes. Clingy, wet clothes. Clinging to his chest. Clinging to his shoulders. I force my eyes back to his face and see that he's still glaring at me. Hell, he's really hot when he's mad. And now I'm not even sure what he asked me. I frown, sliding my eyes up and to the left, trying to remember….nope, it's gone. So I just shrug, hoping that's an acceptable answer.

"Jesus fucking Christ, ballerina, why did you invite a guy you don't know in here alone with you? You could have come into the bar."

Right. Now I remember. He's irrationally angry and now I am justifiably pissed. "No, I couldn't come into the bar because you go all 'big brother' on me and start offering unsolicited advice," I spit.

"I feel protective of you, Bella. But make no mistake, I'm not your brother," he says, stepping toward me, and his green eyes are so intense, so full of fire now that I think maybe….could he possibly feel like I do? No, I'm sure he doesn't.

"I know…we're _neighbors_, right?" I say, narrowing my eyes and saying 'neighbors' so snottily that I'm a little ashamed of myself. "So maybe you should quit the telling me what to do, _neighbor_." Again with the snotty neighbor.

"Jesus Christ. You are the most aggravating woman I've ever been around. You completely get under my skin and ….just fuck it. See you later, Bella." He turns and walks out, squeaking across the wood floor and leaving a trail of wet footprints. I sigh. What the hell was that all about?

I wipe up the floor, move my wet shoes over by the floor fan to dry and leave. I hear my phone chime with a text on the way home, but I don't look to see who it's from. It's still raining like crazy and I don't want to be distracted. It chimes again and again, but I'm not sure if it's just reminding me of the text I haven't read yet or if I really have multiple texts. That would be unusual for me, considering I'm pretty much a loner and have only superficial relationships with almost everyone I know, except Alice and Jake and Seth. My friendships with Rose and Leah are coming along, though, and I really like Emmett. Jessica and I are growing closer, too. Jeez, don't look now, Bella, but you have a circle of friends…okay, it's a smallish circle, but it's mine.

I sigh. And then there's Edward. Where does he fit? Are we friends? It feels like we are. Do I wish we were more than friends? I don't know. Okay, I do know. I definitely like him. I definitely like kissing him, looking at him, fantasizing about him. My skin tingles when he touches me. My girly parts wake up when I think about him. My heart pounds when he leans close enough for me to smell him. And according to Rosalie, he's kept to his plan of reforming his manwhorish ways. For the right girl, he said. The way he said it made me think he's already got someone in mind, but who? I haven't seen him flirting with anyone. Another sigh.

I pull into the parking lot of my apartment building and grab my phone. I have three texts. The first is from Tyler.

***Hey, I had fun. Will call u soon. Goodnite.**

I text him back, smiling.

***Me 2. Talk 2 u soon. Goodnite yourself.**

The next one is from Edward.

***Sorry, ballerina. Can we talk?**

I decide not to answer him. I'm assuming by 'can we talk?' he means 'can I yell at you some more for making what I think are bad choices?' Not in the mood tonight, buddy. I am pissed at you and just want to go to sleep…and probably dream about you. Sometimes I really hate my subconscious.

The last text is from Rose.

***What did u do 2 E? He's slamming whiskey and he's all wet.**

I'll answer her, but I have to be careful. She'll tell him what I say for sure.

***I did nothing. Don't let him drive.**

I get out of my truck and race inside to my apartment, getting re-wet. I go inside, put dry clothes on and snuggle up under my favorite fuzzy blanket on the couch for a little mindless tv watching. My phone chimes again…from under the blanket where I'm holding it. Another from Rose.

***He's mumbling abt u & some Tyler dude? WTF?**

***Don't shout at me. T is just a guy.**

***A DATE?**

***Don't YELL. Sort of.**

***ok. I'm getting it now. **

***huh?**

***J L S :)**

What the hell is she talking about? I rack my brain but can't think of anyone with those initials. Maybe Rose has been drinking, too. I decide not to respond, but my phone chimes again a minute later. This time it's from Edward again.

***Speaking to my sister but not me?**

I knew Rose would tell him I answered her. I don't respond to Edward, though. He sends another text a minute later. I have a feeling they'll keep coming until I answer. I don't suppose there's any point in pretending that I'm not a little thrilled by this. Still pissed, but a little thrilled.

***Warning u…I've been drinking. Dirty texts will follow.**

I laugh at that one. Dammit. I'm supposed to stay pissed at him. I wait anxiously, biting my bottom lip. I get three texts from him in quick succession.

***U were so wet 2nite**

***Can I see u wet again sometime?**

***r u still wet?**

Um, yes, thanks for asking.

***Also really fucking liked your shorts. **

I giggle and wonder how long I should let this continue. I decide to respond now, just to shut him up.

***Turning phone off. Annoying neighbor drunk texting me**

***Oh, u mean me?**

***Yes. G'night, barman.**

I don't wait for a reply, although I'm sure he'll send one. I turn the phone off and head to bed. And, of course, I do dream about him.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, if I was sending Paul Revere out on a midnight ride tonight, he'd be calling, "The smut is coming! The smut is coming!" (Ew, that kind of sounded gross after I typed it.) Anyway, I swear the smut is on its way. Edward can't just break his promise to Rose two chapters after spit shaking, though. **

**Next update in a few days. **

**Those of you who have read my other stories this week, updates on both of those are coming soon, also. Thank you so much for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: At the risk of repeating myself, thank you for the favorites and alerts! Extra big thanks for the reviews! I really do love reading them and appreciate every single one.**

**I'm posting hastily because our cable and internet have been acting crazy for the last few days. The cable "technician" is coming tomorrow to either fix the problem or make it so it won't work at all. So I'm putting this up tonight, just in case. I haven't proofed carefully, though, so please excuse any mistakes.**

**Today is my mom's birthday! She has decided not to become a drunk after all, which disappoints me a bit. She's 83 today...I'm 39. Yep, I was a total accident. Last in line and born after two of my nieces. My mom says I was a pleasant surprise...right. There's no way I believe that. Anyway, happy birthday, Mom. (No, she's not reading, thank God.) :)**

**Don't own Twilight, but got to have dinner with my entire fam tonight, so I feel pretty damn lucky.**

**

* * *

**BPOV

Friday morning when I wake up, I stretch my arms above my head and inhale deeply. I relax back down into the pillows and try to decide of I should get up or stay in bed a little longer. Yawning, I decide bed. Definitely bed. Now if I can just go back to sleep.

After fifteen minutes, I admit defeat. I'm lying here thinking about Edward instead of falling back asleep. Frowning, I think of his behavior inside my studio last night. I don't understand why he was so pissed. I've already told him I won't make the mistakes I made with Aro…and Tyler is nothing like Aro. But that didn't stop Edward. He blew the whole thing completely out of proportion and stomped away like an angry little boy. I smile when I think about all the texting he did later, even though I cut him off and didn't respond the way I'm sure he thought I would. And Rosalie's ambiguous texting was even more confusing. I have no idea what the hell she was talking about or who JLS is.

God, thinking about this makes my head hurt. I get up and start a load of laundry, then dust and vacuum my apartment while I'm waiting for it to finish. Mindless chores allow my mind to wander again…this time it wanders to Tyler. He's cute. He's funny. He seems really nice, easy to talk to. He has a good job. He didn't try to kiss me… that could be seen as sweet or it could mean he's not that into me. Not that I've ever read that stupid book. I have common sense and I don't need one guy to tell me that another guy is 'just not that into you'.

Hey, goofy-looking blonde guy with the dorky glasses, your fifteen condescending minutes are up.

Although I know it's not fair, I can't help comparing Tyler to Edward. Tyler doesn't make me crazy with mixed messages and innuendo that goes nowhere. Tyler doesn't make me feel like I can't freaking breathe or stand on my own two legs. Tyler doesn't make my skin hum with electricity when he's nearby. Why do all these things that I thought were positives about Tyler now sound negative in my head?

It's not right to judge Tyler after only one day anyway. Now if I could just shut off the part of my brain that reminds me that I felt all those things with Edward after the first ten minutes I spent with him. Stupid freaking beautiful one. It's just like him to refuse to get out of my head, consequently ruining any chance I have with the cute, nice boy who seems to like me. That's not necessarily his fault, but I don't care. If he can be irrationally pissed, so can I.

Tired of thinking about all of this, I take a shower and decide to run some errands that I've been putting off. Finally, around eleven o'clock, I drive into the studio parking lot so I can get a little work done there and check to see if my shoes are drying out well. I don't look for Edward's car when I pull into the lot, but since it's parked right next to my side door, I can't miss it.

I park my truck, get out and head for the studio door, then notice that Edward is in his car. I almost didn't see him through the dark tinted windows. He has sunglasses on even though it's not sunny today and his seat is reclined all the way back. It looks like he's sleeping.

I creep past his car and unlock the door to the studio. I hear his car door open behind me and stiffen reflexively. I'd be willing to bet I'm in trouble again.

"Bella…Bella. Hey! Slow down. Where the hell have you been?" he asks grumpily. I turn around to see him standing beside his car, wearing a wrinkled button-down shirt over his t-shirt and jeans. He's unshaven and his hair is even messier than usual. Legitimately messy, not carefully-styled messy.

"None of your business, big brother," I retort saucily. Yanking the studio door open, I stomp inside, letting it bang shut behind me. I hear the hinges squeak as he opens it right back up and exhale loudly in exasperation. I turn around to face him, clenching my hands into tight fists and putting them on my hips.

"I told you last night, I do not feel like your fucking brother," he growls, his voice raspy with sleep. "I have a sister and this is definitely not how I feel about her."

I roll my eyes. I've really had enough of his nonsensical bullshit. "What is your damn problem with me anyway?" I demand.

"You won't talk to me, you won't text me back, you won't answer or return my calls," he complains. "I thought something happened to you." He takes his sunglasses off now – his eyes are bloodshot. He's definitely hungover. If I wasn't so mad at him, I would laugh at him.

All right, that's it. Now I'm insulted. I can barely contain my ire as I reply to him. "Let me get this straight. You thought that because I didn't hang on your every word, I must be injured or dead? Awfully high opinion you have of yourself….or low of me, I guess."

"I don't have a low opinion of you at all, but you've never flat-out ignored me," he replies, sounding surprised by my outburst.

"Get over yourself, Edward. My life doesn't revolve around your phone calls and texts. Not that I owe you an explanation, but I was running errands and my phone is still turned off from last night because I'm sick of being yelled at by you. I hate all this fighting! I don't even know why you were so pissed!" I exclaim, raising my voice a bit.

"Because you let a guy you don't even know come in here last night," he says firmly.

"No. You can't be this angry about that. It has to be something else. Have I offended you in some other way?"

He shakes his head. He opens his mouth like he's going to say something, then pauses, snapping it shut. The door squeaks open again and Rosalie walks in. Great. She'll definitely be helpful in this situation. Jeez, even my thoughts are sarcastic today.

"There's Bella, safe and sound. See, Edward? She can take care of herself after all," she says laughingly.

"Fuck you, Rose. Goddammit. Why is everyone mad at me just for caring enough to worry about someone?" he seethes. He puts his sunglasses back on and storms out, pushing the heavy metal door shut loudly with his foot. As soon as he's gone, Rose throws her head back and laughs.

"What's so funny?" I ask her, transferring my irritation to her since Edward didn't stick around for me to take it out on him.

"You two…this dance you're doing around each other, trying to figure out if you're gonna get down to it or not," she says, still laughing. There's no way I'm touching that statement.

I shake my head at her. She blows me a kiss and walks out the door, leaving me standing in the hallway alone, pissed off and confused. I lock the door to avoid any more uninvited guests and decide to put my frustration to good use by cleaning the bathroom. I have a feeling it will be cleaner than it's ever been before my anger subsides.

* * *

An hour later, I've finished with the bathroom and have calmed down enough to work at my desk. I sort through mail, bills, and tuition payments, pleased that the studio is already making a profit. A small profit, but still a profit. I'm startled when I hear a soft knock at the side door. "Who is it?" I call as I approach it.

"Edward," he responds. I crack the door and look at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Round 3?" I ask sarcastically, smiling sweetly at him.

"No, ballerina. Peace offering," he says, holding up a bag from the Chinese restaurant down the street.

I narrow my eyes as I eye the bag and then him. He's still a disheveled mess, still wearing sunglasses. "You have crab rangoon in there?" I ask, pointing to the sack. When he nods, I break into a smile and open the door to let him in.

I step into my office and grab two sodas from the minifridge, then lead him into the studio and sit down on the comforter that's still spread out from my semi-date with Tyler last night.

"So, how you feeling today, slugger?" I ask, smiling slightly at him as he takes out Chinese food cartons. He takes his sunglasses off and hooks them onto the neck of his t-shirt. I almost wince when he lifts his eyes to meet mine – his look so tired and bloodshot. He's got to be hurting.

"I've had better mornings, but I'll be all right. How about you?" he replies, smiling back at me a little and taking the soda I hold out to him.

"I'm good," I respond, laughing lightly.

He hands me a set of chopsticks and then grabs my wrist gently. "Look, Bella, I owe you an apology. I know I was out of line last night and this morning and I'm sorry. I have no right to ask you all the stuff I was asking."

"Apology accepted. Edward, I appreciate that you're trying to look out for me. But I am capable of deciding who I'm going to hang out with, who I'm going to trust. I have trust issues…for reasons I'm not explaining to you right now, but I refuse to distrust everyone just because I've been screwed over before."

"I'm afraid you trust too easily, ballerina. You trusted Aro," he says lowly, looking down at my wrist where it's cradled in his palm.

"No, I didn't. I just wasn't brave enough to tell my boss slash landlord that he couldn't come in his own building. Lesson learned. I haven't been alone with him since."

"And you trust this Tyler guy?"

I nod. "So far."

"And you're going to date him?" he asks, looking up at me through his lowered lashes, his bloodshot eyes searching mine.

"I don't know. I'll probably go out with him if he asks me. It's been a long time since anyone asked me out. It feels good, you know?"

"But you like him?" he asks, trying again.

Jesus, he's like a dog after a bone today. "I don't know him, Edward. We talked for awhile last night and that's it. He seems nice, but it takes more than one night for me to judge someone."

He nods, letting go of my wrist, and passes me the crab rangoon. We eat in silence for a moment, both of us moaning a little at the delicious food from Tao Tao.

"So can we still be friends?" he asks after a few minutes.

"Friends? I thought you said we were neighbors," I answer with a smirk.

"I think we're more like friends now, don't you?"

"Yes, Edward. I do. I would really like for us to be friends," I say sincerely. I would like for us to be way more than friends, I think to myself, but if friendship is what I can have, it's better than nothing. I do really like him as a person. He smiles then and looks down to dig shrimp out of the fried rice. When he sees my mock glare, he feeds me a couple of shrimp from his chopsticks. They're the best shrimp I've ever eaten.

While we're eating lunch, we talk….getting to know each other without being surrounded by prying eyes and eavesdropping ears for once. We trade a few college stories. He tells me how he met Emmett at a party and immediately got into a fist fight with him; I tell him how I met Alice. I'm surprised when he says that his dad really wanted him to become a doctor and was not happy with the bar-owner option, but he's mostly come around in the two years since Edward's owned his own place.

Edward's lying down on the comforter now with his eyes closed as he talks a little more about his family, allowing me to study him intently. When he asks about my family, I gloss over by telling him that I grew up in a small town with my police chief dad. I also tell him that Jake lived next door and that we've been good friends as long as I can remember.

He turns onto his side, propping his head on the hand of a bent arm and asks more questions.

"So, you and Jake…were you always _just_ friends?" he asks, looking at me.

"Um, yeah….we were probably more like siblings in some ways. We fought like crazy, but always made up by the next day. And he beat the crap out of a guy who was an asshole to me in high school," I say with a laugh.

"But you two never dated? Never got together?" he asks.

"Well, we did kiss once when I was fourteen…Jake was thirteen. But that was because I was going to a boy-girl party the next weekend with a boy and I didn't want to be a kissing virgin," I laugh, pulling my legs up to my chest and resting my face against my knees. "The kiss itself was gross enough, but it really did feel like kissing a brother or something."

"Did the other boy kiss you at the party?" Edward asks, amused now.

"Yeah…with tongue. I thought it was the most disgusting thing ever…but that might have been mostly due to Mike…Newton, the kisser," I say, amused, too, at the memory.

"Was he your first boyfriend?" he inquired, smiling.

"Would you be the first boyfriend of the girl who kneed you in the nads in front of your friends?" I ask, quirking one eyebrow at him.

"Shit! You gave your date a groin shot?" he asks, lying flat again and laughing.

"I sure as hell did. After he kissed me, I overheard him tell some of his friends that he got to second base with me. Little freaking liar. He never even tried to move his hands anywhere besides my waist," I say, still righteously indignant after all these years.

"Fuck! Remind me not to piss you off again," he says, holding a protective hand over his crotch. My girly bits go all tingly thinking about what he's touching. I laugh and force myself to look away from his hand.

"Oh, come on, bar man. I think I've matured slightly since then," I say.

"Really? When's the last time you kneed someone in the nads?" he asks, smirking up at me.

I roll my eyes. "Three years ago," I admit. "But he deserved it."

"What was the offense?" he asks.

"He tried to get handsy with Alice at a party. She was way drunk and not doing a very good job of fighting him off, so I helped her out," I answer, shrugging.

"Did he learn his lesson?" he asks, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged across from me.

"You could say. He was much more respectful when he took her out on their first date a week later," I say, smiling at the memory.

"Wait…was it Jasper?" he asks with wide eyes.

I nod, unable to hold the laughter in any longer. "He was a total caveman asshole before Alice. We all used to call him the Jockey behind his back because he was always riding someone."

Edward laughs. "You really do love the slutty nicknames, huh?"

"It's a bad habit of mine. The funniest part was Jasper found out we called him that and assumed it was some kind of compliment. One of his friends put all kinds of horse noises on his phone following that episode. Took him a while to live that down in the frat house."

"But you're friends now," he remarks, reaching toward my foot and playing idly with my shoelace.

"Yeah. Once Jasper and Alice got together, that was it…for both of them. Eventually, we became friends. Well, Alice made us become friends, but I really do love him now. And he definitely loves her."

Still smiling, Edward reaches for the fortune cookies, holding both of them out for me to choose which one I want. I choose one and crack it open, reading the fortune and feeling myself start to blush.

"You have to read it out loud. It's the rule," he teasingly.

"Only if you do," I answer. My face feels like flames have erupted under my skin.

"Sure. I'll even go first," he says as he opens his cookie and pulls out the slip of paper. He reads it to himself, chuckles quietly and shakes his head, then clears his throat. "It says, 'The problem with resisting temptation is that it may never come again'."

I'm sure my face is even redder now, if that's possible. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears and I'm having a hard time breathing normally.

"You're up, ballerina," he says softly, his eyes meeting mine.

"Mine says, 'One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes'," I read quietly, then force myself to look back up into his eyes. His eyes are darker green than normal and I am powerless to stop the shuddering breath I take. We look into each other's eyes for several seconds before he breaks the connection by looking down, chuckling again as he starts packing up the food cartons.

"Okay. Awkward moment between friends. Let's move on. Wanna hang out at the bar with me tonight?" he asks, looking back up at me with a smile.

"Can't. Hot date with Alice and Rose," I reply, blushing again just thinking about where they are dragging me tonight. I raise both hands to my cheeks trying to cool my skin and stop the blush.

"Uh-oh. What are you girls up to that makes your face turn that red?" he laughs.

"Please don't ask. I'm a terrible liar and I can't tell you where we're going….for a lot of reasons," I laugh back. He stands up and reaches a hand down toward me to help me up. When I reach up to take it, when his fingers curl tightly around mine and start to pull, the stab of desire that runs through me is almost crippling. This is ridiculous, I chide myself. It's a hand. Why does just the feel of his hand around mine arouse me more than anything – even sex – with Seth ever did? I let him pull me up, surprised when I'm actually able to stand on my wobbly legs.

"Tell me someday?" he asks, squeezing my hand gently before he lets go.

"Yeah, sure. When you're 80, I'll call you up to tell you. It'll make your day," I laugh.

He says he's going home to sleep for an hour before coming back, so I know I won't see him again today. I thank him for lunch as I walk him to the door and he bumps me purposely with his elbow as he says goodbye. I go back into the studio and pick up the trash, searching madly for his fortune, but I'm unable to find it. I even dig around in the empty food containers, but it's nowhere to be found. He probably walked out of here with it stuck to his shoe or something. I wanted to keep both of them as souvenirs of our little picnic, but I'll have to settle for just keeping mine. I put it in my desk drawer and finish my work before I head home to get ready for my big night with the girls.

* * *

I will not get dressed up to go to this club tonight, which ticks Alice off. I put on skinny jeans, a black bar t-shirt and my broken-in khaki converse. When Jasper and Alice get to my apartment to pick me up, Alice says I look like a tomboy. I'm a little offended…I know I'm no fashionista like Alice is, but I thought I looked kind of cute. I look down at what I'm wearing…nope, no overalls. I look in the mirror beside the door…nope, no pigtails. I look back at Alice and she must see the hurt in my eyes because she slings an arm around my shoulders and squeezes.

"It's okay, B. You look like yourself….your college self, but yourself. Sooner or later, though, you are going to let me dress you. Just for one night! Please?" she begs.

I roll my eyes and tell her I'll think about it. Jasper winks at me while she's not looking and I smile back. He drives us to the studio to meet Rose. We decided to take a cab from there to the club so we can drink without having to worry. Jasper offers to drive us wherever we're going, but we haven't told him what we're up to either. We tell him thanks, but no thanks.

We get to Whispers just before the first showtime and sit at a table in the back. We order drinks immediately. I leave my hand over my eyes as I down my first beer and order another one. Rose has a stack of $5 bills that she begins to dole out to us. I look questioningly at her, knowing that she doesn't make that much money at the Full Moon.

She shrugs and looks a little guilty. "I dropped a class and got my mommy's money back. I just didn't tell Mommy," she says. "Plus, we're women. We're supposed to tip well. And these girls definitely need the money more than Esme. It's technically my grandfather's money anyway – he died before I was born and left it in a trust for me and Edward."

"Okay, Robin Hood," Alice laughs. "What happens when you get caught by Esme?"

"I cry to Daddy," she laughs. "He always smoothes things over with Mom. It's my money anyway. If I hadn't run off to Europe with Royce when I was 20, it would all be mine now, just like Edward. He got his half because he did the responsible college thing. I went to Europe with a rich, older man and gained life experience. But that wasn't good enough for my parents."

Alice and I both look at Rose with our mouths hanging open. I have never heard even one little bit about this before. I thought she just screwed around and didn't go to college right away, not that she ran off on an adventure.

Rosalie rolls her eyes at us. "All right. I know you have questions. I'll give you a brief synopsis, but I'm not doing details tonight. That will have to wait for another night out. His name was Royce King. He's the great-great-grandson of some railroad baron and has a shitload of money. He was 15 years older than me, but really hot and I fell for him instantly when we met in Miami – I was on spring break, freshman year of college.

"We kept in touch, and that summer he asked me to go to Europe with him. Carlisle and Esme said absolutely not, so I absolutely had to go. Honestly, if they'd said I could go, I'm not sure I would have. The relationship had kind of fizzled for me by then, but I was such a little rebellious bitch that I took off and spent the next two and a half years with a bunch of jet-set playboys and heiresses touring around Europe."

"Did you love him?" I ask.

"For a while…in a way," she responds, looking ashamed of her answer.

"Why'd you leave him and come back to Seattle?" Alice asks.

"He beat the hell out of me…twice. I left immediately after the second time. Fool me once and all that shit. I still had bruises when I got home which is probably the only reason my parents didn't kick me to the curb upon my return. Edward doesn't know about the abuse, so I'd appreciate it if you guys wouldn't mention it around him," she says quietly.

"Oh my God, Rose," I say, unable to put my feelings into words.

"Jesus, this is why I don't tell people. Don't feel sorry for me. I survived…I learned stuff, saw things I never would have otherwise. I've learned to put it in perspective," she says, her voice stronger than it was a moment ago. "Now drink up and pay attention to the girl on stage! I have a fabulous man now and I want to impress him with my mad stripper skills next month!"

"Bella, if you don't watch, we'll never learn the moves," Alice chides, noting that my hand is still fused to the side of my face, blocking my view of the stage.

"I have to be drunker before I can look at another girl's hoo-ha," I announce.

"They keep the thongs on. It's just topless," Rose explains, like that makes this all perfectly normal.

"I'm still not looking until I'm drunker," I mumble, prompting Rose to order us each two shots of some watermelon stuff that tastes like a Jolly Rancher. By the time I drink those and finish my second beer, I'm feeling more relaxed.

"I'm not sure I can do the pole thingy," tipsy Rose says. "I might be more of a lap dance girl."

"Yeah, that would take a lot of muscle control," Alice agrees. "Bella could do it though. Have you seen her thighs? My God, her legs are amazing from all the ballet. She could probably hang there all day."

"I know someone who would probably like watching that," Rose says.

I have no idea what she's talking about and at the moment, I really don't care. I'm too busy studying the dancer on stage, Heidi. She's really good – very controlled. I know I'm drunk when I have no embarrassment whatsoever about staring at another girl's almost-naked body. Really, though, these girls aren't vulgar – they're sensual. Alice was right. We did need to see this in order to teach Rose. I may have to be drunk when we teach Rose though.

"All right, B. Are you tipsy yet? Because we need to talk," Alice says, leaning across the table to talk to me during the break between shows.

"I don't know. I feel warm and stuff. I guess I'm probably tipsy. Wait. Why do I have to be tipsy for this talk?" I ask, immediately on guard.

"Because you're much more receptive when you're tipsy and you need a push. You need to tell Edward that you like him," Alice says with a firm nod.

"Fuck, no!" I answer loudly. Yep, I'm tipsy.

"Bella, really, I've stayed quiet as long as I can. I thought my idiot brother would have come to his senses by now, but since he's decided to be a candy-ass, it's gonna take a little prodding…and a little teasing," Rose says.

"Cock-teasing," Alice laughs.

I gasp. Okay, I'm not that tipsy. "Wh-…what? I… can't… do…. what?" I stammer.

"I wish you guys could have seen Edward last night. He was drunk off his ass, all wet from the rain and moaning about 'the ballerina'," Rose laughs, doing a pretty good imitation of Edward's voice.

"Why would he be moaning about me?" I ask incredulously.

"Bella, are you really this naïve or are you just plain stupid? I told you last night he was jealous," Rose says.

"You did not!" I say adamantly.

"Hey! She's my best friend and she's not stupid," Alice says at the same time.

"Down, kitties. Bella Swan, I did, too, tell you he was jealous…J L S. Alice Whitlock, I am aware that Bella isn't stupid. I just said that for effect because both she and Edward experience a drastic drop in their IQ's around each other. So get yourself drunk, Bella, and learn some moves. Then we'll go back to the Full Moon and you can drive my brother insane," she announces. She levels both of us with her 'don't argue with me' stare and we all turn our attention back to the stage.

We get drunk and giggly fast after that and eventually stand and imitate some of the girls' moves. Rose and I walk up to the stage and give some of our money to a particularly, um, flexible dancer named Cinnamon. She kisses both of us on each cheek with her bright red lipstick. Neither of us tries to wipe it off. Then it becomes a thing. Every dancer who comes out kisses us after we give her money and we don't wipe any of it off. In our inebriated state, we think it's hilarious. The men in the bar apparently think it's hot – they start hollering and applauding for us every time. Three guys try to pick Rose up…she's not even nice when she turns them down. She even shows one of them a picture of Emmett saying, "Why would I give up this for you?"

After the second show, we think we have sufficient moves to please Rose – and Emmett – and decide to get a cab back to the Full Moon. While we're waiting for our cab, Alice calls Jasper and asks him to meet us back at the bar. We can't stop laughing on the way back and have to ask the cabdriver to stop at a convenience store so we don't wet our pants. In the bathroom, Alice buys a $1 booklet of sexual positions from the same vending machine that sells condoms and small vials of cologne. We unfold it in the backseat of the cab, laughing again at the illustrations. I haven't tried most of the positions in the booklet…but Alice and Rose emit a constant chorus of sighs and moans.

"Oh, yeah. That's a good one," Rose says, pointing at a picture.

"Bella, you're flexible…you should totally try this one," Alice chimes in, pointing to another one. In some of them, I can't even tell whose limbs are whose. I've never felt so naïve in my life. My four times with Seth were not adventurous at all.

"Bella, you hang on to this. And make sure Edward sees it," Alice whispers to me. She folds it back up and presses it into my hand while Rose isn't looking.

"Okay, remember the pact. Nobody tells them where we've been, got it?" Rose says as we stumble out of the cab in front of Edward's bar. Alice and I nod, knowing better than to cross Rose, especially when she's been drinking.

Rose strides ahead of Alice and me toward the door.

"Flirt with him, B. This is the perfect time," Alice whispers as she grabs my hand and pulls me faster up the walkway to the door.

"I'll try," I agree, grateful that the alcohol has drowned the poor little butterflies who normally live in my stomach when I'm going into Edward's bar.

"And seriously…you're flexible enough to try number seven in that booklet. Let me know how it works out for you," Alice giggles. I can't help but giggle with her as Rose opens the door and walks in with Alice and me stumbling behind her.

* * *

**A/N 2: Okay, this is the part where I ask nicely for you to review...pretty please. It will make the cockteasing of next chapter much easier to write...or not, since it's already written. Easier to edit/proof. And the chapter after that...Redcoats, baby. ;) (Thanks, Tiffany, for the smut slang!)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N #1: Finally getting this posted. No one would go to sleep tonight...including Mr. Jayhawk who wanted to talk. Seriously? We've been married 13 years. There's no talking anymore. ;) **

**Thanks for the many alerts/favorites/reviews. I love getting them!**

**HUGE thank you to Ironic Twist for rec'ing me twice on her phenomenal fic **_**The Harder They Fall. **_**Read her update last night while I was chauffering Sandy from Grease, Gene Simmons from Kiss and a scary guitar-playing, bloody skeleton dude (yes, I realize skeletons aren't bloody, but it was easier than arguing) all over hell and creation in the never-ending quest for **_**enough**_** candy. Her story freaking rocks!**

**Another HUGE thank you to my new official-slash-unofficial-beta-who-started-out-as-a-prereader, windgirl810. She totally fixed this chapter. I was having a horrid time with it. Love you already!**

**If you enjoy this chapter, tips (reviews) are appreciated at the bar! :)**

**I'm a little afraid of what this is going to look like when I post...FF is acting weird. Wouldn't let me post from my laptop and now won't let me preview. So if it's screwy, I'll fix it later.**

**Standard disclaimer: I think we all know who owns Twilight. **

**

* * *

**

EPOV

Jesus Christ, I need a drink…or a tranquilizer. Anything to turn my fucking brain off.

All evening I've been preoccupied wondering where the girls are and why they wouldn't say where they were going. I'm irritated that I don't know where they are. I'm even more irritated that it's bothering me enough to put me in a shitty mood and wreck my night. I try to reason with myself… I have no claim on Bella and rarely know where she is on the weekends. But knowing that she's with my sister… and knowing that my sister is deriving pleasure from being so secretive… is really fucking with my head.

I've been pissed off all night… I snapped at the wait staff several times. I barely spoke to the people sitting at the bar when I waited on them. I wasn't diplomatic when I told the two tables of barely-legal guys to knock off the fucking with each other or I would kick them all out.

Now, at just past eleven o'clock, even Emmett is fed up with me. He calls me a moody whore every time he passes me behind the bar. He's completely relaxed even though the girls are MIA while I'm worried about what kind of trouble Rose is getting them into. My theories have ranged from seedy tattoo parlors to seedier biker bars.

Emmett laughed his fucking ass off about that one. And then called me a _paranoid_ moody whore.

"E, keg's out," Emmett calls from down the bar where he's actually working while I'm standing off to the side staring blankly at whatever ESPN is replaying on the tv above the bar. I nod at him and head to the back to switch out the empty keg. As I tap the new keg, everything that happened this afternoon runs through my head…again.

Bella handed my ass to me, as usual, when I got pissy with her. I actually like that she doesn't take any shit off me, even though in the moment it usually pisses me off even more. But when I took her lunch and we were alone – for once – we got along well. It was easy to talk to her, even though we spent way too much time talking about the dork she was hanging with last night. Of course, that was because I kept asking about him… hoping she would say she didn't like him, didn't want him. She didn't say either of those things. I felt better by the time I left her studio, though…I felt hopeful.

How stupid is it that a fucking fortune cookie is what gave me hope? It was weird how accurate our fortunes were. It felt like some unseen force was trying to push us together. I smile as I think of a voice from above telling me to stop resisting temptation. "Ed-a-waad, ballerina not come along every day. You betta stop trying stay away and go afta her." I don't waste time wondering why the disembodied voice in my head sounds just like Mrs. Chung, the owner of Tao Tao, who smiled knowingly at me when I told her lunch was for me and a friend…a friend who wasn't Emmett. I think she slipped me fortune cookies from some special love cookie stash. When Emmett and I eat at Tao Tao, we never get fortunes about relationships. It's always some "Confucius say" shit.

The thought of no longer staying away from Bella made me feel better as I left the studio…for about thirty seconds. That was how long it took for me to get across the parking lot and back inside the bar – and come face-to-face with my sister. I cringe as I remember how well that conversation went.

* * *

"_Rose, I'm fucking hungover. Please don't start with whatever's brewing in your fucked up brain," I plead when she steps in front of me, blocking the hallway to my office. I really just came to get my car keys so I can go home and sleep._

"_Edward, you're screwing this thing with Bella up. What the hell are you waiting for? She's a pretty girl and she's going to date someone else if you don't ask her out," she says, following me down the hallway to my office after I slide past her._

"_Off my ass, Rose," I respond through gritted teeth. Jesus, she's the one who told me to take it slow._

"_Well, it's girls' night out tonight. I'm going to have a hard time discouraging her from talking to other guys if you won't give her a reason to turn anyone down," she says, leaning against the doorway of my office as I grab my keys from the top of my desk._

"_Where are you guys going tonight?" I ask, turning to face her._

"_I'm not at liberty to say," she answers, rolling her lips together to try and hide her smile._

"_Fine. Don't tell me. I didn't really want to know anyway," I lie. I turn sideways to get past her as I exit my office._

_She follows me back up the hallway, yammering the whole time about how I'm giving Bella mixed signals. Finally, I turn and explode at her._

"_Jesus, Rose, shut up! I get it. I have a fucking plan and just because I don't ask for your approval on every minute fucking detail doesn't mean that I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Just shut….up," I finish exasperatedly. I'm so tired of listening to her. And I really do feel like shit._

"_Fuck you, Edward. See if I try to help you any more," she says quietly. I see the hurt in her eyes and immediately regret what I said. But she's already turned on her heel and is headed back down the hallway. Hell. I'm too tired to deal with her right now. I'll go home and sleep a little, then apologize to her when I get back. I continue out the side door, not looking back._

_

* * *

_

By the time I got back to the bar for happy hour, Rose was gone. So now she's pissed at me and out somewhere with Bella. Very dangerous combination.

I sigh heavily as I finish tapping the keg. Rubbing my hands briskly across my face, I walk back out front, determined to stop being such an asshole to my employees and customers. I take over for Emmett serving the people sitting at the bar, letting him concentrate on filling table orders. Eventually, I strike up a conversation with a couple of guys sitting at the bar watching the baseball replay. I'm even nice to Tanya when she asks me to fill an order while Emmett's on break.

My mood hasn't really improved, but my acting skills have. When Emmett comes back from his break, he butts into the conversation I'm having with the baseball-watchers, quickly changing the subject from sports to women. He gives us a lecture about the ups and downs of relationships. I keep quiet, but the others chime in with their own bits of wisdom about women. The one thing we all seem to agree on: They love to drive us crazy. When one of the guys orders an expensive brand of scotch, I turn toward the backbar and crouch down to get the bottle from the back of the bottom shelf.

"Ooohhh, shiiiiit," Emmett groans from behind me, dragging the words out. I haven't heard him sound like that for a long time and immediately cringe, worried that there's a bar fight brewing between those two tables of young bloods I warned earlier.

"What's wrong?" I ask, standing back up and turning around. Then I see what he's looking at. Rosalie, Alice and Bella are stumbling in the front door of the bar…loudly. I think they're all smashed. None of them are walking straight. They are all giggling to the point of being obnoxious and Bella and Rose have lipstick prints on their faces…all over their faces. I'm immediately fixated on Bella's face, all smiley and glassy-eyed… so fucking adorable… and is she wearing my hoody again? Yep, that's definitely my hoody. I can't stop the smile that slowly spreads across my face.

"Rose, what the hell? Who drove you?" Emmett growls at her when she sits on a bar stool in front of us. She smiles drunkenly up at him.

"Oh, calm down, grandpa. We took a cab. Knew we'd be getting blitzed tonight," she says. Bella and Alice sit down on either side of her and they all trade high fives, laughing loudly at Rose's joke. Emmett is not amused – at fucking all. I, on the other hand, am now in a great mood. I contain my laughter and decide to butt in before things between Emmett and Rosalie deteriorate further.

"What have you girls been up to?" I ask, smiling at them and setting glasses of water in front of each of them. This causes a fresh round of giggles. Bella lays her head down on the bar, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Alice almost falls off her stool and has to be caught by the guy sitting next to her. She smiles at him as he pushes her back up, then turns to face me.

"We can't tell you. You're stinky boys," she giggles, wiggling herself back to the center of her stool. "Give us shots!" she demands, punctuating each word by smacking her hands on top of the bar. Jesus, why do girls always bang the bar top when they're drunk?

"Who's been kissing you, Rose?" Emmett asks seriously, leaning across the bar toward her. He needs to lighten up. This is way funnier than he's giving it credit for. And hot. Some other woman has been kissing these girls. Fuck, I wish they'd tell us where they've been.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Rose replies snottily. She pulls a tube of lipstick out of her pocket and tries to apply it to her lips, but she's so drunk that it ends up outlining her mouth crookedly. She looks like a creepy, drunk clown. I briefly consider taking a picture of her with my phone…it would be great blackmail. But she's already pissed at me and she's holding too much shit over my head right now. I'm not taking any chances that she'll extend the damn screwing embargo out of spite. Glancing toward Emmett, I see that he's losing patience with Rose fast.

"Girls, let's hit the ladies," Rose announces, spinning her stool around, but spinning too far and ending up facing us again. I laugh out loud and even Emmett chuckles as Rose scowls at us and tries again. This time she succeeds and gets down, pulling Alice with her. "Coming, Bella?"

"No, I'll stay here," Bella says, turning her head toward Rose, but sliding her eyes back to me. I grab a bottle of tequila to pour them shots as requested, but when I look at Bella, she's shaking her head no at me as she unzips my hoody.

"No shot or no tequila?" I ask softly, scooting over right in front of her.

"No tequila. I can't drink it – it gives me a headache," she replies, shrugging out of the jacket and tying the sleeves around her waist. Amazingly, I am able to hold my laughter in and not point out that she's going to have a headache tomorrow no matter what she drinks at this point. She picks up her glass of water and takes a few big drinks. Because I can't fucking help myself, I watch the motion of her slender throat as she repeatedly swallows without taking a breath.

"Whoa, baby. Slow down," I say quietly. "You drink that too fast and you're going to make yourself sick." I reach across the bar and touch the hand she has resting on top of it. She's clutching a little piece of paper in her palm and when I try to look at it, she jerks her hand away quickly. I raise my eyebrows, wondering what it is…and why she doesn't want me to see it. Fuck. It's probably some fucking asshole's phone number. Jesus Christ, I try to be honorable, try to be her friend before I hit on her and one goddamn week before I'm finally ready to ask her out, the guys are lining up to steal the fucking base I'm playing. Fucking mother fuckers.

She puts the water glass down and stares at me, frowning. Shit, why does she look puzzled? Oh… I just called her baby. And I told her what to do. That'll probably piss her off. Yeah, she's probably just working her drunk ass up to angry.

She takes a deep breath and my eyes immediately drop to her chest. What the fuck else am I supposed to do? She's sticking it out, holding her breath. The neckline of her t-shirt has been cut away so it exposes her collar bone and most of both shoulders, including her bra straps. I've seen a lot of bras in my time, but damned if I'm not turned on more by the sight of the slender straps on her shoulders than I have been by seeing other girls wearing nothing but a bra. And her tits…Jesus. I've always been a 'the bigger, the better' kind of guy where tits are concerned, but the only ones I want to see now are hers… smaller and perfectly-shaped underneath the clingy shirt. She exhales and my eyes follow the movement of her chest as everything settles back where it belongs.

All of a sudden, I hear snapping and realize how obvious I'm being. Fuck, she's going to be pissed for real at the way I've been ogling her chest. Hesitantly, I raise my eyes up to meet hers.

"Eyes up here, barman," she smirks, her snapping index fingers now pointing to her face. "The girls do look pretty good tonight, though, don't they? Push-up bra. Push….up." She looks down at her own chest and sticks it out again for a moment before relaxing again and laughing.

"I was just trying to read the front of your shirt," I answer…with a straight fucking face, thank you very much. I'm starting to break out in a cold sweat and my dick is about to bust through the fly of my jeans. Why didn't I wear the baggy jeans tonight? I mean, besides the fact that they're fucking hideous and look like something my dad would wear. They have a lot more room for … expansion… than the tighter jeans I'm wearing tonight.

"Really? What does it say?" she asks, swiveling quickly sideways so I can't see the lettering anymore. Laughing, knowing I'm caught, I shrug and feel my face heat up. "That's what I thought. See? Big… Dick's… Halfway… Inn." She's facing me again and tracing the words on the front of the shirt – right over her chest – slowly with her index finger as she says the name of the bar. "It's a bar I went to once on vacation with Jake and Jared and our dads." Then she spins around so I can read the back of the shirt. "Good girls swallow". Holy fuck, she's trying to kill me. I consider dumping ice down my pants, but, honestly, I'm not even sure that would kill my erection right now.

I try to refocus. "Your dad let you buy that shirt?" I ask. I can't imagine letting any daughter of mine wear a fucking shirt like that.

"No, I had the boys buy it and smuggle it home for me," she giggles, turning back toward me slowly. "And I really was a good girl – I swallowed," ….she pauses to smirk haughtily at me…, "the minnow."

"What?" I ask laughing, confused and amused by her.

"At the bar. They're famous for it. You pick a shot, you pick a minnow and drop it in. Then you shoot it," she replies matter-of-factly.

"You swallowed a tiny, dead fish?" I ask, frowning disbelievingly at her.

She rolls her eyes. "No, Edward. I swallowed a tiny, live fish," she answers. "Dead fish….gross." She shudders visibly.

I am equal parts impressed and disgusted by her proclamation. I feel my mouth hanging open as I continue to stare at Bella…her face this time…to try and see if she's really serious. I think she fucking is.

"I'm losing my buzz here, Edward," she says, smirking at me again, and pulling the neck of her shirt to the side a little so the shirt kind of hangs off her left shoulder. It's a little Flashdance, but, fuck, you'll never hear a guy complain about that movie. That chick was hot.

She snaps her fingers at me again. Right. I'm supposed to be doing my job…not staring at Bella's tits and face and shoulder. I swallow uncomfortably and clear my throat before I speak. "Lemon drop?"

She perks up and nods at that suggestion. I grab a cocktail shaker and pour in citron vodka and a splash of lemon juice over ice. As I rhythmically shake the mixture to chill it, Bella reaches one hand up to run her fingers through her hair, tousling it…messing it up. Jesus, now it looks like she just got out of bed. I'm so riveted by watching part of my fantasy come to life in front of me that I lose my grip on the tumbler and almost drop it. Emmett grabs it out of my hand mumbling about drunk tiny dancers and horny bartenders and finishes shaking it for me.

I grab three shot glasses and sugar the rims, lining them up for Emmett to pour the shots into. I sugar three lemon slices, too, and lay them on napkins at each of the girls' seats as Emmett sets a filled shot glass at each spot. Rose and Alice aren't back yet, but Bella doesn't look like she intends to wait for them.

Looking into my eyes, she raises her left wrist to her mouth and licks across the inside of it slowly. Fuck. My dick becomes impossibly harder.

"I need some sugar," she says slowly, extending her wrist across the bar toward me, then adding a sultry, "_baby_," to make fun of me. I chuckle as I grab a packet of sugar and rip the top off, then sprinkle it across her wet wrist, only taking my eyes off hers long enough to make sure I'm dumping the sugar in the right spot.

She pulls her wrist away from my hand. Using her other hand, she picks up the lemon wedge in front of her and holds it out to me. I take it from her, holding it between my thumb and index finger, then allow her to position my hand so I'm holding it where she wants it…where she can lean forward and take it out of my hand.

She sits back up straight, looking proud of herself, and lifts her sugared wrist to her lips, locking eyes with me again. I stare back at her dumbly, watching silently as she quickly drags her tongue across her wrist and then downs the shot. She leans forward slowly, reaching her right hand up to grab my wrist and hold it in place. I barely hold back a groan when she closes her lips around both the lemon wedge and my fingers and sucks hard, pulling my fingers farther and farther into her warm, wet mouth. Jesus fucking Christ. I haven't been this close to coming in my pants since I was fourteen. My heart is racing, my breathing labored, my gaze fused to hers. I don't think I could look away from her if the fucking bar was on fire.

"Jesus, why don't you two just throw down on the fucking bar?" Emmett grumbles from behind me.

Bella lifts her mouth away from my hand then and laughs loudly. Fucking Emmett. Thanks a lot.

"I'm all sticky now," she complains, looking at me again. Fuck, I know I've got it bad when I think even her whining is cute. I hand her a wet napkin and she quickly wipes off her wrist, seemingly forgetting the seduction routine she was putting on thirty seconds ago. She's still holding that paper in her left hand, though, and I vow to get a look at it before the night's over. If it's some other guy's number, I will burn it…or eat it. If she can swallow a live fish, I can swallow an asshole's phone number.

"Edward, will you fix me another shot to do with my girls? Please?" she asks, propping her chin on her hand and smiling sweetly at me.

I nod, turning to fix her one more. When I set it in front of her, Rose and Alice have returned and the three of them toast each other and drink. She doesn't even glance at me this time. If it was any other girl, I'd think she was toying with me, but Bella is more naïve than most girls. I don't think she has it in her to be a calculating temptress.

I suddenly become aware that Emmett and Rose are having a silent stare down. He's glaring at her…she's angrily tapping her empty shot glass against the bar and glaring right back. Shit, even sober Rose doesn't give in often and she's even more stubborn when she's drunk. Finally, Emmett lowers his eyes for a split second and goes at her verbally instead.

"I want to know where you've been, Rosalie. And I want to know who left fucking lip prints all over your face," he says, his voice steely.

"You do look a little ridiculous with all those lipstick kisses on your face ," Bella says, turning her head toward Rose.

"You have as many as I do, Einstein," Rose retorts.

Bella throws her head back to laugh loudly then leans sideways toward Rose. "Oh, right. I forgot I have them, too. We match! It was fun," she says wistfully, resting her head on Rose's shoulder for an instant before sitting back up.

"And sexy," Alice pipes up.

"Rose, I'm waiting for an answer," Emmett seethes. "Where the hell have you girls been?" His face is reddening – he's definitely angry now.

"Whoa, Em, calm down. I'm sure the girls will tell us where they were when they sober up a little," I say, putting a hand on his shoulder to silently convey to him that he's overreacting. He seems to relax a bit…until the little freak Alice starts chirping again.

"Nope. We're not telling," Alice says shrilly. "Not until after Em –." She is cut off when Rose claps her hand across Alice's mouth. Wow. If I had known that would be so effective against the onslaught of Alice chatter, I might have tried that weeks ago. Well, no, I wouldn't. She's Bella's friend…plus I like Jasper and he definitely wouldn't like me treating Alice that way.

"Zip it, Whitlock," Rose says. "You know the rule. To the grave."

Bella jumps in. "Emmett, I promise it's nothing bad. And you're gonna love her even more for it," she says before Rose can shut her up, too.

Rose swivels to glare at Bella, prompting Bella to jump down from her stool and run behind the bar to cower behind me. I try not to pay attention to the fact that she's hooked her hands into the back waistband of my jeans and is pressing her perfect fucking tits against my back.

"Edward, don't let her hurt me," she says, the words muffled against my back.

She nudges my arm away from my body with her elbow and pushes her head through the space to peek at Rosalie. She squeals when she sees Rose is still shooting daggers at her and buries her face in my back again, sliding her right arm around my waist, holding me tightly, pushing her goddamn chest even harder into my back. Fuck.

"Save me, Edward," she pleads against my back, warming the fabric of my t-shirt and sending the up and at 'em signal to my dick…again. Hey, my dick knows women: arms around us, tits pressed up against us, warm breath on our skin leads him to the perfectly reasonable assumption that we are headed for the pearly pink gates of heaven tonight. He's going to be really disappointed when it's a bottle of lotion and some five-fingered Charlie later…no heaven for us tonight.

"Come on, ballerina. Come outside with me for a minute and give Rose a chance to cool off," I say, grabbing her hand from around my waist and pulling her along with me toward the side door.

When we get outside, I pull a cigarette from my pack and light it. "Want one?" I ask, knowing the answer, but asking anyway.

"No. Those are bad for you," she says, wrinkling her nose at me. She stumbles just standing there and ends up leaning against the brick wall, looking at me and smiling like she's feeling the effects of the two shots she just consumed.

"I know. I'm quitting…I've pretty much quit already. I just wanted to get you away from Rose for a minute before she put her hand over your mouth," I say, taking a drag of the cigarette.

"Why?" she asks, looking confused….and fucking cute as hell.

"Because I fucking hate fighting with my sister, but I will if she puts her hands on you that way," I answer, flicking ashes down on the ground.

"Why?" she asks again, still confused.

"It's demeaning. I don't want her treating you that way. I don't want anyone treating you that way," I say, turning my head to exhale smoke away from her.

"She did it to Alice, too," Bella says softly, looking at me with her big, round, brown eyes, slightly glazed, slightly bloodshot.

"Yeah," I acknowledge, nodding at her.

"But that didn't upset you?"

I shake my head slowly before I answer. "Not as much," I finally say.

"Huh," she says, smiling at me again.

"Whatcha got there?" I ask, pointing at the piece of paper she's twirling in her fingers. I have my lit cigarette ready to set the mother fucking thing on fire if it's some jerk's phone number.

She giggles and I smile in response. "It's an illustrated pamphlet of… of…. sex… positions," she finally manages to say between fits of laughter.

Oh shit. Oh fucking shit. My smile fades as I close my eyes momentarily, trying to regain some semblance of control before I unfold the damn booklet and talk Bella into trying every illustration with me. She's still grinning when I open my eyes. Jesus, I might feel better if it _was_ some asshole's phone number.

"Ballerina, you think you might want to tell me where you've been tonight and why you have that little booklet?" I ask, still trying to tame the lust running through me.

"Nope," she answers, still giggling. She's way too fucking amused…and suddenly I think that maybe she _is _toying with me tonight. She's been laying it on pretty thick since she got here with the dirty t-shirt wearing, the bra strap showing, the body shot licking and sucking. Fuck. Why didn't I see it earlier? I would be willing to bet the bar that my sister has something to do with this. It's bad enough that she's life-coaching me. Now she's apparently coaching Bella, too – coaching her on how to drive me infuckingsane.

Well, two can play that game, sweetheart. Time to pull out the big guns.

I drop my cigarette and step on it before stepping in front of her. I place my palms on the wall on either side of her head and lean my upper body in toward her, stopping when our faces are only a few inches apart. She stops giggling and fixes her eyes on my lips. She licks her lips and I bite back a groan, reminding myself that I'm taking control now.

"Where have you been, Bella?" I ask quietly, dropping my voice as low as I can. She closes her eyes and moans quietly, shifting her hips restlessly from side to side. I know that body language. She is affected by our physical closeness just like I am.

"I can't tell you. Rose will kiss me….I mean kill me," she says breathily, opening her eyes briefly to look into mine then shutting them again. I smile at her answer before leaning in to breathe in her ear, this time letting my lower body move in, too. I scoot one leg forward until I'm almost touching the apex of her thighs. I know she can feel how close I am even though I'm not pressing against her.

As I exhale slowly against her ear and neck, her hips shift forward to bump against my thigh. She sighs as she retracts them. Guess I haven't lost my touch yet even though I'm pathetically fucking out of practice now due to my self-imposed period of celibacy. Fucking Rose.

"Do you want Rose to kiss you?" I whisper. She whimpers this time and tilts her head to the side slightly, exposing her neck to me. Jesus. She smells fucking delicious – and it's not any perfume or lotion…it's just her. I inhale deeply, putting my lips near, but not touching, her neck and sliding them up toward her jaw. She moans again under her breath and pushes her hips forward again, this time leaving them pressed lightly against my thigh. I pull my head back so I can see her face.

"Yesssss," she whispers back. Then her eyes snap open. "I mean no. I mean, not Rose. I don't want Rose to kiss me," she stammers.

"Do you want someone else to kiss you?" I whisper, leaning forward so that our lips are only an inch or two apart. She's breathing quickly and shallowly and her lips are parted. She opens her eyes to meet mine. I trace the lipstick prints on one side of her face with my index finger, smirking when her breath hitches. She closes her eyes again. Fuck, I want to kiss her.

"Uh huh. I want the beautiful one to kiss me," she says breathily.

Nausea rolls through my body like a wave, taking my breath away, almost making me drop to my knees. Barely able to keep the strain out of my voice, I push myself off the wall and take a step back from her, separating our bodies completely. "Who is the beautiful one?" I ask levelly.

"Oh, come on, Edward. You have to know," she answers, her eyes still closed.

"I _don't_ know. Is it that fucking guy from last night? Taylor?" I ask, trying but not succeeding to keep the acid out of my tone.

She laughs and opens her eyes. "His name is Tyler," she says.

"I don't give a flying fuck what his name is. Is he the beautiful one? The one you want to kiss you?" I stuff my hands into my front pockets. My right index finger and thumb trap the Chinese fortune that I've been carrying around all day. Now I wonder if I'll even get a chance to give into Bella temptation. I rub the narrow strip of paper gently between my fingers as I wait for her answer.

"No, he's not the beautiful one," she answers matter-of-factly. Good. One mother fucker down.

"Am I still the last guy you kissed?" I ask quietly, even though I'm not sure if I want to know the answer. Well, I want to know if it was me, just not if it wasn't.

"Yep. Just you….my friend, Edward," she says sardonically. She squints her eyes as the headlights from a car wash over us. It pulls in the parking lot and parks near the side door of her studio. Jasper gets out of the car and walks toward us.

"Hey, you two," he calls out to us, then directs his attention to Bella as he gets closer. "Did you girls have a good time?" Bella nods and giggles. "Are you going to tell me where you've been now?"

"No way. It's a big secret, but you and Emmett will find out soon…and you'll like it…a lot," she laughs.

"Hmmm, so it's something that will directly affect the men in your lives?" he asks.

"Definitely," she nods.

"What about you and the beautiful one? Will it affect him?" he asks. I look quickly at Jasper – he's smirking at Bella. When I turn to her, she looks absolutely panicked.

"Jasper, you promised," she says, her eyes wide, her face paler than normal.

"Oh, relax, Bella. I'm not going to say another word," he says, turning to go in the side door.

After the door bangs shut, Bella mumbles that she wants to go in, so I open the door for her and we head inside. Bella goes down the hallway toward the ladies room while I walk back toward the bar, deflated and depressed. Jasper is standing at the end of the bar talking to Alice and Rose. None of them look my way as I approach.

As I get close to the bar, I hear Alice ask Jasper if he saw Bella on his way in. His reply knocks the wind out of me just as effectively as if someone had punched me in the chest.

"Yeah, she's outside…with the beautiful one."

* * *

**A/N #2: ****Big Dick's is a real bar at the lake where my family has spent many weekends every summer since I was a kid. The genesis of the name really isn't as disgusting as it sounds – the original owner was a large man named Richard and the bar sits near the halfway point between the two dams that contain the man-made lake. But the signs are just so funny….**

**They really have a minnow shot. I did one when I was younger…and when they used to give you a free t-shirt if you did the shot. Eventually, they understood that they had underestimated the gross things that drunk people will do, so now you have to buy the shirt. Their website is down for maintenance right now, but there are a couple of videos on YouTube if you're that interested. **

**Bella's dirty t-shirt is a mash of the front and back of two different t-shirts available at the store there.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews/alerts/favorites. I'm embarrassed to admit that I squeal when I get them.**

**Thank you, windgirl810, for beta'ing the heck out of this chapter! You rock, sister! :) Ironic Twist, thanks again for encouraging so many readers to check my story out.**

**Side note: I'm listening to my husband and his good friend get soused in the other room...they are annoying and not nearly as funny as they think they are. This is the third weekend in a row that we've had house guests. I think I might be going insane even though I love all of them dearly. One more next weekend and then we're done until Christmas! **

**Thanks for reading...this chap is a long one, but there wasn't a good spot to cut it in half, so you'll just have to suffer through it. **

**All right, shutting up now...**

**

* * *

**

EPOV

I'm the beautiful one? Holy shit.

Surprised by what I just overheard, I back up three steps and then turn and duck into the dark kitchen. At first, I felt like the wind was knocked out of me and I couldn't breathe; now I'm breathing so fast that I'm getting lightheaded. Jesus, I'm glad there's no one in here to see me practically hyperfuckingventilating over a woman …a ballerina …_my_ ballerina. Well, _almost _my ballerina.

I lean back against the wall trying to slow my breathing. I still can't believe it's me.

Of course, I know I'm pretty good-looking. Women have been telling me that since high school. But I've never been sure the ballerina thinks so. She makes fun of me as much as she ogles me… she yells back at me … she seems to be unaffected by the smirks and pouts that have gotten me invited into other women's beds.

But Jasper said I'm the beautiful one when he didn't know I was listening. And Bella said I "had to know" who she was talking about outside. Maybe she was trying to tell me… and I was so jealous that she wanted someone – anyone – to kiss her that it didn't occur to me that it was_ me_. Christ, she invited that other guy into her studio to drink wine with her last night! And then she said she wanted the beautiful one to kiss her – what the fuck was I supposed to think? How was I supposed to know that she meant me?

She fucking meant me.

I bend over and put my palms on my knees, sucking wind like a fat man who just ran a hundred meter sprint. I usually blame the fucking cigarettes, but this time… I know that's not it.

So why can't I breathe right? Why am I hiding like a big baby in the pitch-dark kitchen? I quickly recognize the feeling that's got a death grip on me – it's fear. I'm scared shitless being so close to having what I want. My heart is thundering in my chest because I'm suddenly terrified to talk to her. But – _fuck –_ I want to talk to her. I want to go tell her how I feel…except she's so tipsy. She likely won't remember it by morning if I tell her tonight. And I want her to remember. I want her to know I'm serious – as serious as the fucking heart attack I'm about to have.

Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow I'll call her, take her somewhere …somewhere away from here, away from all of our well-meaning, but over-involved friends …and tell her everything. Then I'll beg her to give me a chance.

I still want to find her tonight though. Maybe she'll be able to stay awake long enough for me to drive her home. Finally, I get my breathing under control and walk back out front hoping I don't look as scared as I feel.

As I walk behind the bar, I realize I shouldn't have worried because no one even notices me. Rose is still sitting at the bar and still pissed off, but her glare is aimed at Emmett now. I shift my gaze to Emmett – he's leaning against the back bar, glaring right back at Rose. Goddammit. This is exactly the situation I was afraid of when I found out that my best friend and my sister were in love. I knew it would fucking go south at some point – at least temporarily – and that I would be caught in the middle. Jasper and Alice are on one side of Rose talking quietly to each other and ignoring everyone else in the bar. I stop next to Emmett and put a hand on his shoulder for a second.

"Em, you want to take off? Take Rose home? It's okay. I can cover," I tell him quietly.

"No. Thanks, but…it's probably better if we aren't alone right now," he responds tensely. "I know I'd say things I'd regret later. Your sister would definitely say things too, but I don't think she ever regrets a damn thing she says." He crosses his arms across his chest and sets his mouth back into a grim, tight line as he continues to stare icily at Rose.

I lift my eyebrows at him, but don't respond. He usually knows not to badmouth my sister to me. He must be really pissed.

I see Bella walking toward us then. Since I'm distracted, I am able to keep my breathing and heart rate normal for the moment. I cock an eyebrow at Bella and jerk my head toward Rose to try to give her a heads up as she sits down warily beside Rose. Rose pauses in her Emmett-glaring long enough to aim a half-hearted smile at Bella. I move to stand in front of them as Bella reaches for Rose's hand where it's resting on the bar top.

"Rosalie, do you want me to take you home?" I ask quietly.

She shrugs, shifting her gaze to meet mine briefly. I'm surprised at the sadness evident in her eyes. Goddammit. I really didn't want broken ribs or a split lip tonight, but it's looking more and more like I'm going to have to hit my best friend. And he'll definitely hit back.

"Emmett, we need to talk. My office. Now," I growl, turning to him. I ask Tanya to cover the bar for a minute and lead the way down the hall. I don't realize Bella is following us until Em and I are in my office and I turn to shut the door. Bella puts a hand against it and pushes hard, then comes storming in behind us.

"Tiny, this doesn't concern you," Emmett tells her. "I really don't need both of you back here trying to tell me what to do. Jesus, you and Edward can't even figure your own shit out." Oh, hell no. He's not going to start spewing shit on Bella, too. That pisses me off even more. I start to defend Bella, but she beats me to the punch.

"Emmett, maybe you should worry about your own fucking relationship and leave Edward and me alone," she says forcefully. "Right now your girlfriend – who is completely crazy about you, by the way – is sitting at the bar thinking that you don't trust her." She pauses and straightens her shoulders in determination before she continues. "We had a fun night tonight and you ruined it for her. You should be ashamed of your behavior. I'd like to knee you in the nads, but Rose will be pissed at me when you two make up if I do."

"Tiny, I really didn't –," Emmett tries to interrupt, but Bella's having none of that. She furiously shakes her head at him and draws a hasty breath before continuing loudly, talking over him.

"So you'd better pull your head out of your ass and go apologize to her, dickwad. Don't make me regret not hurting you. You've been warned," she finishes, narrowing her eyes at him, daring him to give her a reason to inflict physical pain.

At the conclusion of the tongue-lashing, Emmett is speechless. So am I. All I can do is smile as I look at her, drink in the sight of her – her face flushed, her eyes flashing with indignation after sticking up for her friend with a vehemence that I've never heard when she defends herself. Her face is still covered in lipstick prints and I still wonder where the hell she was tonight, but more than that, I wonder when the hell she's going to let me kiss her again. She looks too mad to be receptive right now. Fleetingly, I remember my assessment the night I met her – she's absolutely stunning when she's pissed.

Jesus, I want this girl. I want her in a way I've never wanted anyone else. I mean, yeah, I want her body…but even more than that, I want _her_. I want her to talk to me and yell at me and defend me and laugh with me and hug me. I want her in my bed, but I want her out of my bed, too. And suddenly the fear is back, adrenaline coursing like fire through my veins again. But this time, instead of being afraid of getting her, I'm fucking terrified that I won't.

Defeated, Emmett leans back and sits on top of my desk, looking at the ground like a little kid who's in trouble with his mommy. Intending to break the silence, I clear my throat and start to thank Bella for sticking up for Rose, but she's already turning to stomp back out the door.

"Idiot," she says quietly, but loudly enough that we can hear her, as she walks out the office door, slamming it behind her. I chuckle as I look at the closed door. I'm not sure if she's talking about Emmett or me, but I'm going after her as soon as I beat some sense into my friend, all thoughts of waiting until tomorrow to tell her how I feel quickly abandoned.

"Emmett, you're my best friend, but she's my fucking sister," I begin, then halt when he holds his palm out toward me.

"Don't start with me, man. I'm pissed and I don't want to talk to you _or_ Rose right now. Just give me a minute, here, okay?" he asks, finally looking at me. I nod and drop onto the couch behind me to try and get my fucking thoughts organized. I've been all over the place since Bella and I came in from outside. After a minute, I ask the question that keeps popping back into my head.

"Where the fuck do you think they've been?" I wonder. I'm somewhat amused by their steadfast refusal to tell us, but also a little annoyed.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I don't even know why I'm so mad about it. It should be funny. Guess I'm a little too possessive to have a threesome," he says.

"Whoa! Fuck…..stop that shit. That's my goddamned sister. Jesus, I didn't want to have that visual…ever," I lament. Resting my head against the back of the leather couch, I press the heels of my hands to my eyes and rub, hoping to erase the last ten seconds of conversation from my memory.

He chuckles like an evil genius and I know he did that shit on purpose. At least he sounds more like regular Emmett. Maybe I won't end up with a black eye tonight after all. I sit back up and look over at him. His face is more relaxed than it was before we came back here so I'm hopeful that he's finally calming down. I stand up and open the door to the hallway.

"All right. I'm going back. Take a few more minutes if you need it. You'll fix this when you come out front?" I ask. He nods.

"Yeah. But seriously, man, get off your ass with Tiny before you lose your chance. She's the best thing that's ever walked into your life," he says. I nod back at him before I go out the door.

When I walk back out to the bar, Rose is sitting alone. "Where is everyone?" I ask, stopping beside her and sliding an arm around her shoulders.

"Alice was about to pass out, so Jasper took her home," she answers, depressed now instead of angry. "Bella went with them."

Fuck. I missed her. Luckily, Emmett hasn't emerged from my office yet. Right now I feel like punching him just because his stupid ass made me miss talking to Bella, or at least telling her goodnight.

"We never fight, Edward. He's never been this mad at me before," Rose says, sniffling. I hug her and let her rub her snotty nose on me. Jesus, I'm a good brother. When I feel her stiffen in my arms a few minutes later, I know that Emmett must be behind me.

"Rose, I'm sorry, baby," I hear him say. She pulls away from me and flings herself at him.

"The lip prints…it was just…some girls," she explains still blubbering as he holds her tightly and strokes her hair.

"You don't have to explain. This was my fault. I'm so sorry I overreacted, Rose. I just hate the thought of anyone else kissing you," he murmurs.

I've heard enough. Shaking my head, I walk away to give them some privacy and am not surprised when Emmett asks to leave a few minutes later.

While he goes to get his jacket from the back, I walk over toward Rose. She looks better – her face relaxed now that she and Emmett made up. I ask if she's okay, wanting to make sure that she's comfortable letting Emmett drive her home after their fight. She assures me that everything's fine now and even manages a haughty eye roll as she refuses – again – to disclose any information about where she and the girls were earlier tonight. Sensing that I've hit a dead-end on that subject, I try another one.

"Rose, did you put Bella up to all the flirting tonight?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

I can see that she tries to hold the smile back, but she can't seem to stop the smug grin that eventually curls her lips upward. "I may have suggested that she push you along a little, yeah," she admits. She exhales loudly before she speaks again. "Edward, I love you, so I'm going to level with you: You're confusing the hell out of her."

I frown at her because _she's_ confusing the hell out of _me_. "Rose, you're the one who told me to be her friend. You're the one who instituted the fucking sex ban that's practically ruined my life, _Coach_," I complain bitterly. She smirks, but doesn't call me melodramatic like I'm sure she wants to.

"Yeah, I told you to be her friend…and I told you to _date_ her, which you haven't done. It's sweet that you take her drinks and sit with her when she comes here, but, Edward, she has no fucking clue that you like her the way she likes you. And, no, I didn't tell her…because she should hear that from _you_, not me," she says earnestly.

I sigh, knowing she's at least partially right. I've been dragging my feet on the dating thing because I have no idea what I'm doing. "I'm telling her everything tomorrow. I wanted to tell her tonight, but she was too tipsy." I smile thinking about her little drive-Edward-crazy routine tonight. It was…an arousing success.

"Uh uh uh, stop looking like the cat that ate the canary. The sex ban is still in effect. But you've probably spent enough time being her friend," she says, smiling at me. She turns to go join Emmett at the door, but then whirls around quickly to lean back across the bar toward me.

"Edward, she's naïve about guys. She hasn't been romanced properly out of bed…or in it," she says. "So, even though you're avoiding the actual sex for awhile, use this time to show her how it's supposed to be... you know what I mean?"

Huh? Did she just give me permission to do stuff with Bella as long as it's not _sex_ sex? She turns around to walk away again until I call her name.

"Yeah?" she smirks, looking back at me.

"I'm sorry about earlier today…what I said to you," I say.

"I know. But thanks for saying so. Jesus, you'd think by now I would have learned not to fucking talk to you when you're hungover," she smirks. I laugh.

"Thanks…for real, this time. Coach."

She rushes toward me, jumps into my arms and presses her lipstick-stained cheek to mine. "You're welcome. I love you, baby bro."

"Love you, too, big sis," I say, kissing the side of her head and squeezing her tightly for a minute just like the pansy I'm becoming. Jesus. Thank goodness it's late enough that most everyone is either gone or trashed.

"Call her tomorrow," she advises, turning away again and taking the hand Emmett holds out to her.

"I will," I answer. "I will."

* * *

Saturday morning, I text Bella before I leave my condo. It's only ten, but I bet she's up.

***Morning, ballerina. You free for lunch?**

I don't have to wait long for the answer.

***No, sorry. Going out of town. Forgot to tell you last night.**

***Where r u going?**

***Home for a few days – riding with Jake and Jared. They say hi.**

***Tell them hi. When r u coming back?**

***Next Friday. Alice will be running the studio if you need anything. **

***ok. Come see me when you get back?**

***Sure. Have a good week. **

*** u 2**

At first, I'm upset at the thought of having to wait so long to see her and tell her how I feel. But since there's nothing I can do about it, I'll just have to come up with a fool-proof plan for letting her know what I want. By the time the next weekend is over, she will understand exactly how I feel... and hopefully she'll let me fucking kiss her.

* * *

Without Bella next door, the week seems to crawl by. Tuesday and Wednesday nights are pure torture – Em and Rose have both nights off this week, so I'm stuck working with Tanya and only have Lauren to keep me sane. I'm careful not to get stuck alone anywhere with Tanya, sending Lauren or one of the kitchen guys every time she asks me to help her get something from the back room.

By early Wednesday night, I think she's on to me. She keeps trying to get me to go outside with her to smoke and each time when I won't go, she gets more pissy.

I catch Lauren snickering when I blow off Tanya's attempt to have a conversation with me. "She's tenacious, huh?" Lauren says as Tanya stalks off in a huff after I answer every question she asks with a one word reply.

"Jesus, like a fucking pit bull," I mumble, shaking my head incredulously. "Do I have to paint her a goddamned picture?"

"I'm not sure she'd get it even then, Edward. Maybe you should let Bella paint the picture instead," she says slyly.

"What?" I ask, wondering how much Lauren knows.

"Oh, come on, Edward. Tanya is the only one around this bar who is so blind – or maybe so delusional – that she can't see how you feel about Bella. Dude, even the kitchen guys know you're smoked," she says, smirking at me.

"Well, fuck. So everyone around here thinks I'm a pussy-whipped fool?" I ask. Damn, they're all good at keeping it quiet. I thought only Rose and Emmett knew.

"Not exactly. Thanks to Rosalie, we all know you're not pussy-whipped," she laughs. I'm gonna kill my fucking sister. When I put my hands over my face, Lauren grabs one of my arms and pulls it down, then forces me to face her. "She seems like a nice girl, Edward. And it's good to see you looking so happy when she's around."

I mumble something – I'm not even sure what – under my breath as I walk away from her. She laughs behind me, then spends the rest of the night quietly teasing me about Bella while she does her best to keep Tanya away from me.

* * *

I take the early part of Thursday night off and have dinner with my parents. I'm nervous as fuck driving to the restaurant they chose, afraid something's up since it was my dad who called yesterday and asked me to meet them. He so rarely calls me that I was taken by surprise and couldn't think of a good reason to turn him down. I didn't really panic until he said they wanted to eat with me alone – no Rosalie to help deflect all the parent questions.

Dinner is actually enjoyable – even though I have to wear an 'appropriate' shirt with my jeans, as my mother so sweetly reminded me via text this afternoon. By the time we're having an after-dinner drink, I've decided that maybe they don't have an ulterior motive for inviting me out tonight.

"So, Edward, are you getting along any better with Aro?" Dad asks, leaning back in his chair and swirling his scotch and water before he takes a drink of it.

I frown as I answer. "No. He's an asshole. I mailed him the rent check early last month just so I wouldn't have to look at his freaking face," I say, tempering my language slightly. My mom really hates when I use the word fuck as an adjective... or an adverb. I doubt if she likes me using it as a verb either, but since I never tell my mom who I've been fucking, it's never come up.

"Rosalie told us what he did to Bella," my mom cuts in, leveling her green laser beam eyes at me, waiting for me to chime in. Curiosity…or ulterior motive? Too soon to tell.

"Yeah. I also mailed the check to him so I wouldn't pound his freaking face in when I saw him," I seethe. "I'm not sure what Rose told you, but I don't feel comfortable talking about what Bella told me without her knowing. I don't think she wanted me to tell a bunch of people, you know?" I look down at my plate for a second as I shrug.

I look back up just in time to see my parents exchange a look. Neither of them says anything, but I don't have to be a mind reader to know that a slight eyebrow raise from my dad followed by a tiny nod from my mom means "told ya so". Fucking Rose. I wonder how much she's told them about my feelings for Bella.

"Of course, sweetheart. We would never expect you to betray Bella's trust," my mom says.

"When will I get to meet this young lady?" my dad asks, smiling at me like I'm a goddamned teenager with his first girlfriend.

"I don't know. Come by sometime. If she's around, I'll introduce you – as long as you promise not to make any weird fucking – freaking – comments," I say, chuckling lightly when my mom purses her lips at my slip.

"Maybe she'll be around for the holidays," my mom says, recovering from my use of vulgar language enough to smile at me.

"I don't know, Mom. I don't really know anything about her family. She's not from Seattle," I reply. And that is my cue to get the fuck out of here. Jesus. Bella and I haven't even been on a goddamned date and Esme's ready to hang up a fucking stocking for her on the mantle.

"Well, I'll stop in soon to meet her," Dad says, looking at me like he knows I'm about to bolt after Mom's holiday talk.

I nod and tell them thanks for dinner. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I'm still not sure exactly why they asked me to come alone – it seemed like they were trying to get information from me but they didn't pry very much except right at the end. I hug and kiss my mom then pat my dad's shoulder as I leave the table, wondering if they got what they wanted.

* * *

When I walk into the Full Moon a little before nine, I am surprised to see Bella sitting at the bar, talking to Rose. I didn't think she'd be back in town until tomorrow. I smile as I head straight for her, but as I approach, I see that her eyes are puffy, her nose is red, and there's a pile of shredded napkins on the bar in front of her. Suddenly, I feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder from behind and drag me into the hallway. I know without looking that it's Emmett.

"What's wrong with Bella?" I ask immediately, turning to look at him, but desperate to get out front and talk to her.

"I don't know, man. She's been here for a couple of hours, knocking down the cosmos and alternately laughing and crying. Rose has been talking to her, trying to take her home, but she won't go. She's a mess, dude. I just thought you should know what's going on before you try to talk to her."

"Fuck. It better not be fucking Aro again," I muse through clenched teeth. I walk back out to the bar slowly so I don't alarm her when she sees me.

"Edward!" she says excitedly, laughing and raising her arms in the air over her head. I smile at her – I like that she seems to be happy to see me.

"Bella!" I answer in the same tone, but not as loudly. She laughs harder. I look questioningly at Rose and she shrugs at me and shakes her head, clearly concerned.

"Where have you been all night?" Bella asks, slurring her words a bit.

"Dinner with my parents. It sounds like you've been here all night. How about letting me drive you home?" I ask gently.

"Nope. Not going home," she answers quietly as tears quickly begin sliding down her cheeks. Oh, shit. Emmett wasn't kidding. "Too many things there remind me of him….he was everything to me. I can't face it tonight….please don't make me go there," she pleads.

"Settle down, Tiny. Nobody's going to make you go anywhere. But where are you going to sleep?" Emmett asks, sitting down on the other side of her and putting a hand over one of hers on the bar top.

"I'll sleep in my office. I just need one more drink to knock me out," she says, sniffling.

"Not until you drink some water, ballerina," I reply.

"Come on, barman. I won't drive, I promise. Gimme what I want," she says, laughing now. Hello, mood swing. She pulls the t-shirt she's wearing down off one shoulder like she did last weekend and shimmies at me, laughing harder and falling into Rose suddenly, almost knocking both of them to the floor. Rose chuckles as she gets Bella straightened back up.

"You know, Bella, if you were just regular drunk and not upset drunk, this would all be really entertaining," Rose says to her while she gets Bella's clothes situated again.

"Thank you, Rosie. I love you," Bella says and pulls Rose to her for a hug.

"Oh my god. I'm letting that slide because you're out of it, but if you ever call me Rosie again, I will hurt you," Rose says, hugging back. With difficulty, she disentangles herself from giggly Bella and looks at me. "Jesus, she's stronger than she looks. I don't know what to do, Edward. Emmett and I are supposed to be meeting friends downtown."

"Go ahead. I'll deal with the ballerina. Lauren and Tanya can close without me if it's necessary," I say.

"Thanks, little bro," she says, smiling at me. I shake my head at her – she's always so sweet when she's just gotten her way. She turns to Bella. "Bella, Em and I are leaving. You stay here and do everything Edward says, okay? Wait – not everything he says. Well, _you_ know what I mean." She levels a glare at me.

"Please, like I would with her in this condition," I say, annoyed. "I'll just make sure she gets home when she's ready."

"Not going home," Bella pipes up.

"And why is that again?" Emmett asks, making a final attempt to figure out what happened.

"All his stuff. Too many memories…..makes me so sad," she says, her eyes filled with tears again. I don't know enough about her past to know who _he_ is….but if I find out, I'm kicking his ass for making her cry.

"Okay, you two, out," I say to Rose and Emmett. All the questioning is not helping Bella right now. She's too far gone. "Go have fun. Bella and I will be just fine, won't we?" I ask, looking at her.

"Yep. Me and my _friend_ Edward will be juuuuust fine. I'm going to the ladies' room," Bella announces and hops down from her stool. Emmett steadies her before she smacks his hands away and heads down the hallway.

"Call if you need help," he says to me as he and Rose head for the side door.

"We'll be fine," I say again, hoping it's true. Jesus, it's probably a good thing Rose was so upset last weekend. At least I'm not completely out of practice at comforting crying chicks. Although last weekend, I had Emmett to hand Rose off to. Tonight, I'm flying solo.

Bella's back in a couple of minutes and still wants another drink. I make it, going light on the alcohol even though she glares at me. I get her to drink some water along with it which I hope will slow her down, but she keeps going for another hour, giggling and telling me stories about being in the car with Jake and Jared. From what I gather, they treat her like a little sister – even though she's older than Jake – and she doesn't like it. She doesn't burst into tears again though.

"And they made me sit in the backseat the whole time…driving there and back," she tells me for the third time. "I told Leah though, and I know she'll get back at Jake. Fucker."

I burst out laughing at that and she smiles back at me.

"Did you miss me this week, Edward?" she asks, putting an elbow on top of the bar and leaning over to rest her head against her bent forearm. She's blinking more slowly now, letting her eyes stay shut for a few seconds before slowly opening them again. Jesus, maybe she's finally winding down. I hope that if I get her good and sleepy, she'll agree to let me drive her home.

"Of course. It's not the same around here without you, ballerina," I answer. She smiles more widely then lets her eyes stay closed. I study her face for a minute, wondering if she looks this beautiful and content when she's sleeping in bed.

Unable to stop myself, I reach across the bar and push back the hair that's fallen forward across her face. Her hair is as silky as I remember from the day I had my hands in it…the day Aro propositioned her. I play with her hair for a minute, until I see Tanya approaching us. She walks up and drops her tray on the bar right next to Bella's head, laughing contemptuously at the loud, jarring sound it makes. Bella startles and sits up, her eyes popping open as she searches for the source of the noise.

"Tanya," I seethe lowly.

"Oops. Sorry, hon….what's your name again? Della? Estella? Cruella?" she sneers. Jesus, she's a bitch.

"Tanya, knock it the fuck off," I growl. Jesus, I wish Rose was here. Rose would drag Tanya out by her hair for talking to Bella this way. Since I'm a guy – and her employer – I have to be more careful.

"Oh, lighten up, Edward. When did you become such an uptight prick? I said I was sorry," she says, frowning. She picks her tray back up, tosses her hair over her shoulder and slinks away.

"Are you okay?" I ask Bella, afraid she'll start crying again.

To my surprise, she giggles. "Yeah, she doesn't like me….Rose told her she caught us kissing that day," Bella says, looking at me. "Rose told her that to be cruel...I kind of felt bad about it…until now. Now I kind of want to kiss you in front of her."

"So go ahead," I answer, smirking at her.

"Nah. If we ever kiss again it will be because we want to…not because of her," she says. Damn. I thought I was onto something there. She picks up the lightweight cosmo that I was hoping she wouldn't drink and slams it.

"One more, Edward," she says, pushing the glass across the bar toward me. Sighing, I turn around to make her the drink, only splashing enough alcohol in the glass to make it smell normal. Maybe I should just hand her a bottle of Jack and let her do shots until she passes out.

"Okay, ballerina. Here you go. Last one, okay?" I ask. She nods happily, her eyes wide open and shining again. Shit. I think she got her second wind. She drinks half of her drink immediately.

"Edward, you have any cigarettes?" she asks me, smacking her hands down on the bar top, proving my drunk girl/table smacking theory once again.

"Yeah, I have some. Why?" I ask, slightly amused by her question.

"Last week you said you were quitting," she says, frowning at me.

"I have mostly, but I still have some back here behind the bar, just in case I want one," I explain patiently.

"Good. I want you to teach me how to smoke," she announces.

"Ha….no…..no way, Bella. You don't want to smoke," I say, shaking my head at her.

"Please? Just one little lesson. I just want to try it one time," she begs, pouting her lips slightly the way I used to when I was trying to get something from a woman. She looks so fucking cute that I know I'm not going to be able to deny her if she really wants this.

"It will probably make you throw up," I hedge.

She tilts her head down and looks up at me from under her brow. "Edward, I think it's very likely I'll be throwing up at some point tonight anyway. So this is a good time," she says seriously. She pouts again, really sticking her lower lip out this time. I chuckle in spite of myself, then try to look stern as I answer her firmly.

"No."

"Yes."

"No, Bella."

"Yes, Edward."

I groan and look up at the ceiling. "You are the most fucking stubborn person I've ever met," I say, lowering my eyes to hers. That's not true…Rose is way more stubborn than Bella. I just said it for effect. "Come on."

We go out the side door and stand in the same spot we stood last weekend. It's chilly tonight, so I pull my hoody from around her waist and help her put it on. She leans back against the building as I zip it up for her, letting my hand linger for just a second at the top. Then I make the mistake of looking down at her legs…she's wearing really tight jeans and motorcycle boots…she looks hot.

"I like your boots," I say, still staring at them.

"Thanks. Jake made me buy them last spring before he would ride me on his motorcycle," she says, gazing up at me with wide, innocent eyes.

"You mean _take you_ for a ride on his motorcycle," I correct, not liking her phrasing at fucking all.

"That's what I said, Edward," she insists irritably. I laugh then and pull the pack of cigs out of my pocket, asking if she's sure she wants to do this. "Yep. I want to smoke. I want to be a smoker….a joker…. a midnight toker."

"Steve Miller fan, huh?" I ask, continuing to smile at her.

"Used to be. Until I was stuck in the backseat of Jared's car for six hours without my freaking ipod. I mean, I like Steve Miller and Aerosmith, but not nonstop for six hours. Jeez, enough's enough," she says. "Did I tell you they made me sit in the back the whole way? The whole way there aaaaaand the whole way back."

"No! You're kidding me. Really?" I ask even though it's the fourth time she's said it. "I can't believe they would be so mean. I wouldn't make you sit in the backseat, ballerina. Or if I did, I'd sit back there with you." That answer seems to satisfy her and she smiles up at me. Then I light two cigarettes and hand one to her, helping her get it situated between her fingers.

"I want to hold it like you do. It's much cooler," she complains, not liking the way I've positioned hers in between her index and middle fingers.

"Learn to inhale first, then we'll work on other stuff, okay?" I say, smiling at her. I show her how to take a drag and exhale, going into detail about how she can avoid making herself cough up a lung in the process.

"So, first I suck….then I blow?" she asks, blinking her dark eyes up at me. I'm sure all the color drains from my face, because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my dick.

"Edward, the look on your face. What did I say wrong?" she laughs.

"Nothing. You didn't say anything wrong," I answer.

"Baby," she says, right as I inhale.

"What?" I laugh, coughing a little since she made me take a deeper pull than I intended when I laughed. "Did you just call me a baby?"

"No. Last week…you called me baby," she answers. "I liked it." I stare into her eyes as she takes another drag.

She talks quite a bit as she smokes…she's now decided it's funny to talk about sucking and blowing. I'm not as amused. My dick continues to stand at attention though. Bella does pretty well with the cig and looks way fucking sexier than I expect, tossing her hair repeatedly as she turns her head to exhale.

"I don't know which I like better…the sucking or the blowing," she muses, smirking at me again. "I think I should keep practicing. Want me to practice, Edward?" I don't answer that. I shake my head at her and look away.

She's definitely flirting, right? It's different than last weekend…maybe because she's really drunk this time, not just tipsy like last Friday. But it doesn't feel as light-hearted. She seems more serious tonight…or maybe I'm just more serious and want to see that in her, too. She drops her cigarette butt to the ground and asks for one more, wanting to light it herself this time.

After her first drag, she starts talking again. "When we met, you were smoking. Remember?" she says, her words a little slurred, her eyes a little glassy.

"Yeah," I answer, smiling at her.

"You looked so sexy with that cigarette hanging out of your mouth. I thought about knocking you down and ripping your clothes off right then," she says, then takes another drag. She had a good time teasing me on Saturday, but I'm not sure she's doing this on purpose tonight. Her demeanor is completely different. My reaction, however, is exactly the same. I adjust things in the front of my jeans, which she notices. But there's no nervous giggle from her like I expect. Bella lets her gaze linger over my crotch and licks her lips before taking another drag of the cigarette.

"Why didn't you?" I ask, smirking at her when her gaze returns to my face.

"Because I wouldn't have a clue what to do with you once you were naked," she says, shrugging one shoulder. "I've only slept with one person and I didn't really like it that much."

Fuck. Me. Now. I did not need that information tonight.

"Who did you sleep with? Wait, don't tell me. That isn't something I want to know right now. Why didn't you like it?" I hear myself ask. Jesus, I'm so fucking stupid. Why would I ask her that? I should be fucking running back inside by now, forgetting this conversation, and calling Rose to get the hell back here and do something with Bella before I end up screwing her drunk ass up against the bathroom wall.

"It just didn't feel that good. Rose says he was doing something wrong if I didn't like it. She says it's like the best thing ever. Is that right?" she asks. This time I close my eyes, then I pull another cigarette out and light it for myself. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Bella, I'm not sure we should be having this conversation," I answer, trying to be honorable. I scoot away from her and lean one shoulder against the wall, still facing her but putting several feet of space between us.

She finishes her second cigarette and looks over at me. "I need information, Edward. And you're my friend. And I heard you've had a lot of sex. I hope that someday someone will want to sleep with me again and I need to know what to do to make it good," she says earnestly.

"Jesus Christ, Bella. I can't talk about this with you," I groan, readjusting myself again and turning to lean my back against the brick wall. This time she does giggle. She walks over to me and takes the cigarette from my hand. She takes a drag, then turns her head to the side to exhale before stepping toward me. She straddles one of my legs and hooks her fingers into the front belt loop of my jeans – shit, her hand is way too close to my dick. She keeps her eyes on mine as she puts the cigarette between my lips. She holds it there while I take a drag, pressing her hips up against mine. She continues leaning against me as she takes one more drag herself. Suddenly, she tosses the cigarette to the ground.

"Do you think you'll ever want to kiss me again?" she asks quietly.

"Fuck, ballerina. I want to kiss you every time I see you," I answer, lifting one hand up to touch the side of her face gently.

"So this is okay?" she asks, reaching up to dig a hand into my hair and gently pulling my head down toward hers.

"Mmhmm," I hum, letting her lead. When she stops pulling on me right before my lips reach hers, I bite back a groan, but stop and wait for her to show me what she wants.

"I have cigarette breath," she whispers.

"Me too… baby," I reply softly. She smiles and pulls my head the last few inches down to hers. I slide my hand down from her face to cup her neck gently, rubbing my thumb back and forth along her jaw. She tilts her head up toward me and I press my lips to hers. We move our lips against each other's several times before I open my lips slightly and wait to see what she does. She immediately opens her lips, too, and I feel her tongue lick across my bottom lip.

I groan and she pulls back slightly, opening her eyes to look at me.

"Ballerina?" I ask quietly.

"I like kissing you," she says simply.

"Then I think you should do it more often," I respond, smiling at her.

I tug her gently to me and kiss her again. There's no pretense of closed-mouth kisses this time – both of us leave our mouths open. She pushes her tongue into my mouth as soon as our lips meet and I slide my free arm around her waist to hold her body close to mine. Slowly, our tongues and lips meet and pull apart, over and over. Christ, I haven't been this fucking aroused from just a kiss since I was a teenage virgin.

She slides her hand from my hair down to my neck and under the collar of my shirt to rest on my upper back. Her other hand moves from my belt loop up to my stomach to stroke gently against my abs. Involuntarily, I pull them in when her touch gets to be a little too much and I pull her more tightly to me to stop the movement of her hand. When she pushes her tongue into my mouth again, I pull it in further by sucking on it lightly. She moans into my mouth and digs her fingernails into the skin of my upper back as our kiss becomes more urgent for a moment. Then she sighs when I slow the kiss again and then gently pull my mouth away. I don't want to get too carried away in the goddamned bar parking lot. We are both breathing heavily and I lean my forehead against hers, keeping my eyes closed, still holding her – still being held by her.

Once my breathing is close to normal, I open my eyes to find her gazing sweetly at me, smiling at me. I smile back and press a slow, chaste kiss against her lips before I lean my head back against the wall.

She takes a deep breath and lets go of me, stepping back from me slightly. "I need to go to the bathroom again," she says cheerily, as if she hasn't just been trying to fucking kill me with the kissing and the sex talk and the cigarette sharing. She struggles with the door, so I help her get it open and then watch as she weaves her way down the hall toward the bathroom.

"She may need help," Lauren says walking up beside me. She grabs my hand and puts one of those stretchy ponytail holder things in it. When I look at her quizzically, she smiles. "She'll be puking later. Pull her hair back. No girl likes to wake up with vomit in her hair." I chuckle lightly as I stretch the band around my wrist and Lauren winks at me before turning away to go back behind the bar. I notice Tanya glaring my way before I turn toward the hallway to follow Bella. When Bella comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, I'm leaning against the opposite wall, waiting.

"Hi, Edward," she says, giggling as she walks up to me. "You're really, really hot. Do you already know that?" she asks as she places both palms flat on my chest and leans on me.

"Bella, I think it's time we get you to bed," I tell her, trying to ignore the way she's rubbing both of her hands up and down my chest. _I will not fuck the ballerina tonight, I will not fuck the ballerina tonight_, I repeat inside my head. I jam my hands in my front pockets to keep myself from grabbing her.

"Are you taking me to bed?" she says, hooking her arms around my neck and looking up at me with her open, trusting eyes. Fuck. I'm not going to be able to fight off a lot more of this attention. If it was any other girl – and if it was three months ago – I wouldn't even try.

"No, ballerina, I'm not taking you to bed. I'm _putting_ you to bed. Let me take you home," I implore her, putting my hands on her waist to hold her away from me. Rose was right though. She's freakishly strong for as small as she is and she's successful when she attempts to rub her chest against mine.

"Edward, I'm serious. I can't go home. Not tonight," she says, dropping her arms from my neck and leaning her forehead against my chest.

"What happened, ballerina? Who is he? Is it Aro again?" I ask softly, putting a finger under her chin to lift it so I can see her eyes. They are full of pain.

"Aro?" she laughs hollowly. "No, not Aro. Aro's nothing to me. He….he was everything to me. I can't talk about it….I can't. Please." She starts to cry full force now, sobs wracking her slight shoulders.

"Okay, baby, don't cry," I say, pulling her to me and rubbing her back. She puts her arms around my waist and cries for a few minutes, then slowly quiets, still clinging to me and taking shaky breaths every few seconds. "How many drinks did you have tonight?"

"Six or seven here, I think. And I drank some in my office before I came, too. I cancelled classes for tonight because I didn't think I'd be back. I think I need to go to bed," she says, letting go of me and stepping back.

"I think that's an excellent idea," I respond, relieved. "Just let me ask Lauren to close."

"I'm just going across the parking lot. You don't have to walk me," she says, stumbling backwards and finally leaning against the opposite wall.

I laugh. "Really? It doesn't look like you're walking that well. And I'm not letting you sleep this off in your office."

I look over at her beautiful, tear-stained face, at the way she's wrapped both of her arms around her middle and is kind of hunched over as if she's in physical pain, and make a decision that I truly hope I don't come to regret.

"You're coming home with me."

* * *

**A/N #2: See? Progress, no? Nod your head. Now review me and tell me what should happen next 'cuz I have no ideas! Kidding, kidding. Not about the review me part though. :) **

**The idiots in the next room are debating sixth grade math...I'm either going to have to go to bed or go drink with them. What to do, what to do...**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello...you may have noticed that this chapter took me a long time. I'm not sure why it was so difficult for me, but it went through revision after revision. **

**I'm eternally grateful to my beta/friend Windgirl810 for encouraging me to write something I think we both like better than the first shot! Mwah!**

**Thanks for reading...please review. I mean, I know it's the holidays and everybody's busy, busy, busy, but it only takes ten seconds. :)**

**I don't own Twilight. :(**

**

* * *

**

**EPOV**

As soon as I get Bella into my car, I'm afraid I've made a huge mistake. I put her in the passenger seat and start to buckle her seatbelt for her, but she slaps my hands away saying she can do it herself. Shaking my head, I close her door and walk around to the driver's side, quickly sliding into my seat. I glance over at her and find that she's not buckled in, but is curled up on her seat, facing me, blinking slowly up at me with her huge, brown, doe eyes. When I lean over to fasten her seatbelt, she hooks her arm around my neck and pushes her nose into the skin under my ear, inhaling deeply and sending pulses of desire through my body.

"You always smell sooooo good. I could just lick you," she slurs …and then she fucking does. She licks all the way up my damn neck, the wet warm strokes shooting sparks straight to my dick. Shit, why didn't I call Rose? I need to calm the hell down. I close my eyes, trying to conjure up a vision of my tenth grade English teacher in my head …that woman had more hair growing on her face than any guy in my high school – even Marcello, the Italian exchange student. There she is… hello, Mrs. Wood. Shit, I forgot her last name was Wood. I give up. I'll just have to suffer through this.

Quickly clicking the seatbelt into place, I reach for her arm and gently remove it from my neck, placing it back in her lap as I retreat to my own seat. She giggles and I smile at her in spite of my discomfort.

"You're gonna have to behave yourself, ballerina," I chide, turning back to the front and starting the car. "No more of that tonight, okay?" I fasten my own seatbelt and put the car in reverse, hoping to hell that she stays put on her side of the car. It's started to rain, so I turn the windshield wipers on, listening to the quiet squeak as they swipe back and forth every few seconds.

"Mmmkay," she mumbles. "Why do you always call me ballerina?"

"I don't know. I like calling you something that no one else does, I guess. Does it bother you?" I ask. This is good. If I can keep her talking, maybe she'll forget about the licking. Jesus, maybe I'll forget about the licking… that doesn't seem likely though since I can't seem to think about anything else.

"Uh uh. I like it. Do you… have nicknames …for… everyone?" she asks slowly. I glance over at her as I shift gears, sighing in relief when I see that her eyes are closed. With any luck, she'll fall asleep and not be coherent enough to torture me any more tonight.

"Nope. Pretty much just you. I call Emmett 'dickhead' a lot, but that's more of an observation than a nickname," I laugh. She smiles and hmms, but doesn't answer.

We drive a few minutes in silence and then I feel her arm slide through mine as she leans her head over to rest against the top of my arm. She sighs heavily and once again, I think she's gone to sleep. I'm startled when she speaks.

"The street lights are so pretty in the rain, don't you think? Everything's shiny," she says.

"Um, sure," I answer. I never really thought about it, but I guess she's right.

"They're going by too fast. Edward, I don't feel very good," she says.

"Close your eyes, ballerina. We're almost there. You'll feel better when you lie down," I say soothingly, reaching my gear shifting hand up to the side of her head for a second to hold it close to my arm. Once again, I'm surprised at the shift in my mood around her. A few minutes ago, I was so turned on that I practically had to talk myself out of jumping her, but now I just want to take care of her. No one else has ever brought out this range of emotions in me, and even though it scares the hell out of me, there's also something about it that I really like.

Several minutes later, I drive into the underground parking garage of my building and pull into my reserved spot. Bella seems to be asleep now, so I gently push her onto her seat before getting out and walking around to the passenger side.

I open her door and lean in to unbuckle the seatbelt as I try to gently wake her. "Bella, come on, baby. We're here." She opens her eyes slowly and lets me half pull, half lift her from the car. She leans heavily on me as we walk to the elevator and get on.

"I think I'm going to throw up," she mutters, resting her head against my chest, her arms hanging limply at her sides.

"I know. It's okay. You'll feel better," I say, suddenly remembering that Lauren told me to pull her hair back. I pull the elastic band from around my wrist and manage to get it wrapped around her hair even though I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Before I have time to feel too proud of myself, the elevator stops on my floor and I persuade Bella to start walking with me down the hallway.

Once inside, I help her out of my hoodie and take her back to my bathroom, knowing we're on borrowed time; she's looking a little green. I kneel down beside her and rub her back gently.

"No, Edward… go, please," she mumbles. I try to argue, but she shakes her head adamantly, so I stand up and walk out to the kitchen to get some water for her. By the time I get back to my room, I can hear that she's sick, so I go to the other bathroom and get some clean towels and wet washcloths for her. I grab a new toothbrush while I'm in there, too, left over from when Emmett used to sleep on my couch a lot, before he started dating my sister. As I go back through my bedroom, I grab boxers and a t-shirt for her to sleep in.

This time when I get back to her, she's closed the lid of the toilet and is resting her head against it. Again, I kneel down next to her, rubbing her back with one hand while I use the other to wipe her face with one of the cool washcloths.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, her eyes fluttering open to look at me. I smile at her and tell her it's okay, then lift her up to sit on the toilet. Crouching in front of her, I pull off her boots and socks for her and then look at her fucking tight jeans. Jesus, I don't know how she gets them off when she's sober, so I don't think there's much chance she'll be able to get them off by herself now.

Exhaling slowly as I try to control my hormones, I get her to stand, holding her up while I talk her into unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans as I avert my eyes. I mean, fuck, I want to watch, but this really isn't how I envisioned seeing the ballerina in her underwear for the first time. She pushes them down partway and I clumsily wrap a towel around her waist then sit her back down gently. Kneeling in front of her, I push her knees together to lessen my temptation and start peeling the denim down her thighs. She moves her legs around trying to help, and I have to look away as the towel slides too far up, revealing way too much of her upper legs. Jesus! I yank the towel back over her, muttering at her to hold still, and quickly pull the jeans the rest of the way off.

"Are you peeking at me?" she asks, smiling drunkenly down at me.

"I'm trying really fucking hard not to, ballerina," I answer honestly, but I can't resist running my hands up her calves and halfway up the outside of her thighs. Her skin is just as smooth and soft as I imagined. I wrap my hands around her thighs, squeezing gently before I pull my hands back to settle on her knees, stroking gently with my thumbs. I feel a rough patch on her right knee and look down as I trace the small scar. "What happened?"

"I tore my menis… menis… what's it called? I tore that thingy that goes between the bones. Dr. Taylor had to fix it and now I have that itty bitty scar," she says, giggling as she looks at me. She reaches a hand into the top of my hair, ruffling it gently, sending more flickers of lust through me. "You want to kiss it and make it all better?" she asks, sliding her hand down the side of my face.

Fuck, yeah. Clearing my throat, I answer quietly. "Not a good idea right now, Bella."

I reach for the boxers and quickly slide them up her legs as far as I can, pushing her legs apart slightly. I know if I don't get her covered up soon, I'll end up getting her more uncovered before long. Bella's in no condition to make that kind of a decision tonight. Plus, there's the whole sex embargo imposed by Rose. I don't want either of these women pissed at me, so I'd better get the hell up from my spot – kneeling between Bella's legs is quickly becoming very dangerous.

I stand her up and she pulls the boxers the rest of the way up, but not before I get a glimpse of blue, lacy underwear. She seems a little steadier now, so I leave her to change her shirt and brush her teeth, pulling the bathroom door shut and standing right outside in case she needs me. I hear the water start and then stop, hear a faint rustle as I assume her shirt hits the floor.

When she opens the door and sees me, she tosses her bra at me, laughing. "Here's the push up. Remember I told you last week, Edward? Push… up," she giggles. She points to her chest, thankfully concealed now under my old Radiohead t-shirt and says, "Not pushed up. Flat."

I shake my head at her, biting my tongue to keep from telling her that I've seen her not-pushed-up tits plenty of times in those little tops that she wears to teach her classes and they always look fucking great to me. Instead, I smile at her and lead her over to the bed, where I've already pulled the covers back so she can get in.

"Lay down, Bella. Go to sleep. I'll leave the bathroom light on for you, okay?" I say. She lies down on her left side, facing away from me, and immediately closes her eyes.

"Thank you, Edward," she whispers, sliding her folded hands up to rest under her left cheek as I tuck the comforter around her. I look down to see that I'm still holding the scrap of blue padded material and I walk straight to the overstuffed chair in the corner to gently lay it down. Christ, even when I'm – mostly – a gentleman, she almost kills me.

* * *

An hour later, I stand beside the bed wondering what the fuck to do. I've changed into basketball shorts and a clean t-shirt and I'm tired enough to go to sleep, but I can't decide where to go… the couch or the bed.

The couch, asshole, I tell myself. I should definitely not try to sleep platonically in the bed with Bella.

I know that's the right answer. But I also know that Bella will probably not remember coming here when she first wakes up. I don't want her to be scared waking up alone in a place she doesn't recognize. Once again, I'm amazed at the paradox of emotion raging inside me. How can I want to fuck her into next week one minute and hold her in my arms the next? Annoyed at my own indecision, I run my hand through the top of my hair as I stare down at the tiny ballerina. Jesus, it's been years since I wanted to be in bed with a woman for a purpose other than screwing, but I want to now.

Giving into myself at last, I lie down on the bed after grabbing the blanket off the corner chair. I don't trust myself enough to get under the covers with her, even though I know she's out of it. My dick has a mind of its own most of the time, especially around her. I turn on my side to face her, to study her. I now have the answer to my earlier question: Yes, she does look beautiful and content while she's sleeping in bed …my bed. Groaning quietly, I roll onto my back.

As I think back over everything that happened tonight, the nagging asshole in my brain brings up the thing I haven't allowed myself to think about all night: Him. The guy Bella was crying over. Who is he? Just last weekend she said she wanted me to kiss her and I can't imagine that she'd lie about that. Tonight, she seemed glad to see me and wanted to know if I missed her. So why the fuck was she crying over someone else?

I roll back to my side to face her. She's moved slightly and her neck is bent at an odd angle. Hesitantly, I scoot toward her and gently hold her head so I can adjust the pillow underneath it. When I'm satisfied that she looks more comfortable, I scoot back to my own side, shaking my head at myself. I may not have gotten the pussy yet, but I'm definitely pussy-whipped, regardless of what Lauren said last night.

Thinking that I won't discover any answers that will lessen my jealousy over "him" tonight, I close my eyes. Just as I'm about to drift off, I hear Bella shifting around. I open my eyes and see her burrowing farther under the covers, still asleep.

She sighs deeply and mumbles something. Sure that I misheard her, I lean closer to see if she says it again… she does.

Smiling, I push all jealous thoughts aside as I settle back on my side of the bed. Whoever the asshole she calls "him" is, it isn't his name she's saying in her sleep… it's mine.

* * *

**BPOV**

As I float confusedly in that blurry place between being asleep and being awake, the first thing I'm aware of is how badly my head hurts. As I blink my eyes open a minute later, completely disoriented, I realize that I'm lying in a bed on my right side – and I don't have any idea where I am. Wherever I am though, it's really comfortable …and the sheets smell good.

Pushing up on my right elbow, I try to sit up, groaning as my head protests the movement when I'm halfway up. Trying to subdue the pain, I slowly lie back flat and look up at the ceiling, watching it spin slowly… slowly. When I look to my right, I see that there's a light on in what looks like a connected bathroom, but the door is barely cracked, letting in just enough light to cast the room into dusky gray shadows. Large, inky shapes lie to the left and right of the door. My heart begins to race as my eyes adjust to the dim lighting and I begin to take in my unfamiliar surroundings.

Blinking in time with my rapid heartbeat, my eyes slide to the wall on the right side of the door, the part of the room on my right, as I try to remember how I got here. I see a dresser against the wall with an attached mirror, but there's not enough light to see any reflection. The dresser looks like dark wood; it's oversized and the outline looks similar to one I've seen before at Restoration Hardware. So, wherever I am, it's nice, I guess. Whoever I'm with has money, I guess. Psychos don't shop at Restoration Hardware, right?

I let my eyes slide past the bathroom door again and continue their journey through Where-the-hell-am-I?-ville. As my eyes focus on the part of the room in front of the bed, I can see the silhouette of a flatscreen television perched on a table that looks like it matches the dresser.

Abruptly, the pounding of my head and heart quiet enough that outside sound breaks through… a rhythmic pattern… a whispering pull of air… an answering huff that ruffles the hair on the side of my head. Someone's breathing… right freaking next to me in this soft, warm, good-smelling bed.

"Shit. Shit," I whisper nervously, as a vague recollection of getting into a shiny, black car pops into my head. Hesitantly, dreading what I'm about to see, I turn to my left – and see the beautiful one starting to wake up beside me. "Double fucking shit," I moan, putting a hand over each eye. Edward makes a low rumbly sound – it sounds a little like a chuckle. Desperately, I make an internal plea.

_Dear God, it's me, Bella. I know we don't talk much anymore and that's my bad. But if you could see fit to open up some sort of black hole right under this bed and suck me into another dimension, I'd really appreciate it. Otherwise, I may just be the first person ever to _actually_ die of embarrassment. Thanks._

Reluctantly, I spread my fingers apart, sighing disappointedly when I realize Edward and I are both still here. No inter-dimensional miracle for me tonight. This morning. Whatever. Piercing green eyes are peering back at me through the spaces between my fingers. Jesus, even in the dim light of this room, his eyes are vivid as they search mine with sleepy amusement.

"How ya doin', ballerina?" he asks quietly, his voice deeper than usual, rough with sleep. One side of his mouth is curled up slightly in a half smile. He pushes himself up and turns away from me, reaching over to his left. When he turns back toward me, he remains sitting and looks down at me sympathetically. "Sit up, Bella. I have water and ibuprofen for you," he coaxes as he puts a hand out in front of me. I grasp it to pull myself up, wincing as my head chooses this moment to remind me it's not done with me yet either. Terrific. I take the pills from Edward's hand, down them with the water he gives me, then hand the glass back as I groan again and lie back.

"Thanks. Please tell me we didn't…" I start, not even able to finish the sentence. It horrifies me a little that I might have slept with Edward last night. It horrifies me a lot that the main reason I'd be upset about sleeping with him is because I can't freaking remember it. And I'm certain that sleeping with Edward would be something I would not want to forget. Does that make me a Slutella? Probably. I'll have to think about it later when my head isn't pounding like the little drummer boy on speed.

He sighs deeply. "We didn't. Jesus, do you seriously think I'm such an ass that I would sleep with you when you were that drunk?" he grumbles, turning away from me again as he sets the water back down on his nightstand. He settles back on the bed, adjusting the pillows under his head as he lies on his side to face me. I turn my head to look at him as I apologize.

"No. I'm sorry. I don't think you're an ass, Edward. I just can't remember…much," I say, although bits of it are starting to surface. I vaguely remember crying at the bar to Rose, drinking a lot of vodka, smoking outside with Edward. The memory of the alcohol and cigarettes brings on a wave of nausea and I groan again and push away all thoughts of last night for now.

"Fuuuuuck. I'm never drinking again," I say in my sandpapery, hung over voice. I try to glare at him when he chuckles quietly, but frowning makes my head hurt more, so I end up just staring at him. God, he looks good in bed. I study him in the shadowy light, wishing he was mine so I could run my fingers lightly along his jaw scruff... tangle my hands in the mess on top of his head... lean in to kiss the lips that are slightly upturned... stare unendingly into the bright green eyes that are looking back at me.

"Luckily for my business, no one ever sticks to that morning-after mantra," he quips. "You're gonna be okay. You just need to sleep it off," he says soothingly, pulling the covers back over me and tucking them around each shoulder. I realize now that I am under the covers and he is on top of them.

"What time is it?" I whisper.

"A little after 4."

"What time did we come here?"

"About eleven o'clock."

Embarrassed again, I groan and shut my eyes. "So, not only was I a drunk, I was an early drunk. And I probably didn't pay my tab," I say derisively.

"It's okay. I know where to find you," he laughs softly. Even in my state of great pain, I am aware enough to hope that he finds me in his bed again someday … having a better time.

"I'm really sorry. I was a total wreck last night," I apologize, my voice barely above a whisper. "I should go."

His laugh this time is a little louder. "Go where? It's four in the morning and you rode here with me. I'm not getting my ass out of bed to take you anywhere this early."

I laugh, too, then whimper at the shooting head pain it causes. "Don't make me laugh," I complain, putting my hands on my stomach under the covers. I run my hands across the soft, thin t-shirt and then down over the boxer shorts I'm wearing. "Where'd I get the clothes?" I ask needlessly. Sometimes I'm absolutely brilliant.

"They're mine…and before you ask, I was a perfect gentleman…mostly. I helped you with your jeans, but I didn't see anything except your legs…and a tiny bit of underwear. I did see your bra, but only because you threw it at me," he replies, trying not to smile but failing. He looks amused, though, not smug.

"Oh God. I'm sorry. How many other ways did I make a fool of myself?" I wonder, pulling the covers up over my face.

"Lighten up, ballerina. You were funny. And we've all done it at one time or another," he says gently, pulling the covers back down. "Go back to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."

Maybe it's the hangover I'm nursing. Maybe I'm still really tired. Maybe it's sheer humiliation. Whatever the reason, I let my eyes slide shut and promptly fall asleep.

* * *

When I wake up again, the room is light… and I'm alone. I push myself up slowly, hunching my shoulders slightly as I wait to see if the throbbing head pain will return. It doesn't. The medicine and extra sleep have reduced the pain to a dull ache. I scoot to the side of the bed and get up, then walk to the bathroom to survey the damage.

After I go to the bathroom and wash my hands, I finally allow myself to look in the mirror. My hair is in a ponytail...a really low ponytail. That's not where I would have put it. Huh. It doesn't look like I have any makeup on… I look pale. Oh, well. At least I don't have a tar pit under my eyes like I did the last time I drank way too much and went to bed without washing my face.

My breath, I'm sure, is awful. My mouth tastes like… I don't know. Something really bad. Just because my head isn't pounding anymore doesn't mean it's cooperating with actual thinking at this point. There's a toothbrush laying beside the sink and I have a hazy recollection of using one last night. Hopefully, it was this one because I'm using it now. When I'm done, I splash some water on my face and pull my hair up higher into a bun.

I meet my own eyes in the mirror. "Stop stalling, Bella. You're going to have to face him sooner or later," I say. I notice a piece of paper stuck into the frame surrounding the mirror. Without thinking that it could be private, I reach for it and pull it out from the crevice. My face breaks into a smile as I read the words on the paper and realize it's Edward's fortune from the day we ate Chinese food in my studio. He kept it. I carefully tuck the paper back where I found it and then look at myself in the mirror again. I press the first two fingers of my right hand against my lips and giggle quietly, my hangover forgotten for the moment.

It's a silly thing to be giddy about, but that's what I am. It doesn't necessarily mean anything that he kept his fortune… maybe it was just left in his pocket and he mindlessly stuffed it between the mirror and frame. But maybe he kept his for the same reason that I kept mine… because it was the first time we ate a meal together, the first time we talked alone for more than a couple of minutes without curious eyes watching our every move. Buoyed by my discovery, I decide it's time to go out and deal with the fact that I'm here, in Edward's apartment, in Edward's clothes.

Taking a deep breath and pulling the boxer shorts a little lower to cover more of my legs, I open the door to the bedroom and see Edward sitting on the side of the bed. He looks freshly showered, his hair still a little damp. He's dressed in his regular uniform of jeans and a t-shirt.

"Hey," he says, smiling crookedly at me. "Are you feeling better?"

"Hi," I whisper, embarrassed all over again as soon as I see him. "Yeah, I'm recovering." I lean against the doorjamb and fidget nervously with the hem of my t-shirt …well, his t-shirt.

"Um, I made some coffee. You want to come out in the other room?" he asks. I nod and start walking up the hall, looking into the rooms we pass. There's another bathroom on one side and a bedroom on the other. Inside the bedroom is a treadmill and another flatscreen, but no bed. I pause in the doorway to look.

"I hate the gym. And sometimes when I get home from the bar, I'm too worked up to go to sleep, so I run," Edward explains from behind me.

Peeking around the doorway of the room, I take a couple of steps forward and see free weights laying on the floor in the far corner. I knew he had to be working out sometime. He has a great body. His shoulders are broad, his arms strong. I haven't seen his legs, but his butt always looks great in jeans.

Now, standing here in this room where he runs, sweats, works out – probably shirtless – I start to imagine what he looks like doing it. His wet hair plastered to his head, beads of sweat running down his face and neck, the definition of his biceps and back muscles as he lifts weights. I start to feel a little warm and slightly lightheaded. When Edward leans close to me, looking over my shoulder to see what I'm looking at, I feel tingles erupt across my skin and I inhale sharply as I brace a hand against the door to steady myself.

"Oh, shit. Does it smell like a locker room in here or something?" he asks quickly, his breath warm against the side of my neck.

I laugh nervously, trying to cover the real reason for my strange behavior. "No, Edward. It smells fine."

When I feel him back away from me, I turn to look up at him and smile, but don't trust my voice to say anything else. Pushing my lustful thoughts away, I turn to follow him back out of the room. He motions for me to walk ahead of him the rest of the way up the hallway to the main area of the apartment. I stop at the end of the hall, not sure where he wants me to go. He points over to the living room where I see a dark gray couch and two black leather armchairs arranged around a black, rectangular coffee table.

"Let's sit in there. You take anything in your coffee?" he asks.

"Milk please, if you have some," I answer, sitting sideways in one corner of the couch and tucking my legs up under me. I rub my hand over the soft cushion of the couch. It feels like suede, but softer. A furry, white blanket is folded across the back of the couch and I run my fingers through it as if I'm petting it before resting my cheek against if for a second. When I hear the refrigerator door shut in the kitchen, I sit up straight, quickly making sure I'm adequately covered by the boxer shorts, and then try to sit still until Edward appears carrying two steaming mugs of coffee and a bottle of water. He hands one mug to me, then sets the water on the coffee table in front of where I'm sitting and his mug down near the other end of the couch. "Thanks, Edward," I say, looking up at him.

"You're welcome. You cold?" he asks, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and unfolding it for me. I pull it over my lap, mumbling another thank you in his direction. He settles at the other end of the couch with his mug of coffee.

"I like your place… all your furniture… this," I remark, holding up a corner of the warm, soft blanket.

He chuckles lightly. "It's my mom. All of it. I mean, I had veto power, but she just kept appearing with this shit. I think she kept the neighborhood delivery guys in business for a month when I first moved in," he says with a hint of irritation, but also affection.

I smile in return, then look around a little more as I sip my coffee. Another flatscreen, some books, some cds, a few family pictures – all on the entertainment center on the opposite wall. The walls are bare except for a large, framed picture of Edward, Rose and Emmett standing in front of the Full Moon under a sign that says "Grand Opening". Everything in here is beautiful, but it still seems somewhat sterile. Other than the picture, I don't see a lot of Edward here. But at least his walls aren't covered with crappy sports memorabilia like most guys' apartments I've been in.

The silence between us stretches for a long moment before he finally, gently breaks it.

"Want to talk about why you ended up smashed at my bar?" he asks quietly, stretching his arm out along the back of the couch.

"No," I reply quietly, studying the caramel-colored liquid in my mug. "But you deserve an explanation since you got babysitting duty."

"It's okay, ballerina. You don't have to," he says casually, but his voice sounds strained. I let my eyes rove slowly over his face, taking in the tension, the worry. Immediately, I know that I'll end up telling him whatever he asks because I don't want him to look at me that way.

Resigned, I ask quietly, "Did I say anything about it?"

"All you would say was it was a guy," he says, his voice stiffly.

"A guy," I repeat thoughtfully. "I used the word 'guy'?" He has the completely wrong impression, I can already tell.

"I think you just said 'he' or 'him'. So I assumed it was a guy… whose stuff you still have." He looks nervously at me. I hear him swallow.

"Yeah. I have a lot of his stuff," I say with a humorless chuckle.

"And he was everything to you," he says solemnly.

I nod slowly, deliberately, and take a deep breath. "That he was," I answer, feeling the tears gather in my eyes, the emotion clogging my throat. I close my eyes for a moment, recalling his face, his voice, his smell. When I reopen them, Edward's eyes are no longer fixed on my face. He seems to be studying the contents of his coffee mug as intently as I was studying mine a moment ago.

"You love him," he states quietly, still looking down.

"All my life," I confirm in a shaky voice. Edward's eyes raise back up to meet mine, confusion apparent by his frown. "He was my dad, Edward. I was upset about my dad."

"Did something happen to him last week?" he asks, concerned.

"No, not last week. Last Thanksgiving. My dad died last Thanksgiving night," I whisper. "I went home last week to finalize the sale of his house and to be there when the Charlie Swan Memorial trail was officially dedicated." I swallow a couple of times, trying to contain the sobs.

"What happened to your dad, ballerina?" he prods quietly. "I mean, if you want to tell me."

"There's not much to tell. Car accident... wet, slick roads... he lost control of the car and that was it," I say, my voice flat as I fight to keep a handle on my emotions.

"Bella, I'm so sorry," Edward says soothingly, setting his coffee down on the table and scooting closer to me on the couch. He puts a hand on my blanket-covered legs and squeezes gently twice before pulling it away. "What about the rest of your family? Christ, I don't even know if you have siblings."

"I don't. It was just me and my dad... since I was six," I tell him, feeling more in control now. I smile sadly as I think of my dad... missing him. It still hurts every day, but it's getting easier to think of him, to remember the good stuff instead of just that one horrible night.

"I... fuck... I don't know what to say. How can I help you feel better?" he asks, frowning, looking down at my lap as he reaches for the hand I have resting there. He holds my hand in his palm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across my knuckles. I look down at our joined hands, too, at the way my whole hand fits inside his palm. I squeeze his hand lightly trying to convey my appreciation at his gesture of comfort.

"I'll be okay, Edward. It's just... going home last week seemed to bring everything back to the surface. And I have most of his personal stuff at my apartment. I just couldn't deal with it yesterday," I say with a shrug, looking back up at his face. He's still looking at our hands. "When Jake and Jared dropped me off, I just wanted to dance – that's always been my escape... it's always helped me deal with whatever was going on inside my head. But it didn't help yesterday. So I decided to drink instead."

He looks up from my hand, frowning slightly, his brilliant green eyes meeting mine. I manage a sardonic half-smile as I quirk one eyebrow at him. "Excellent choice, obviously," I remark sarcastically. He huffs out a chuckle and squeezes my hand. "Thank you for taking care of me... even though I don't remember a lot of it."

"You're welcome, Bella," he replies, smiling crookedly at me. That's my favorite smile of his and I smile back, unable to stop myself. Really, what's not to smile about? I'm feeling fairly decent considering the amount of alcohol I drank last night, I'm sitting in Edward's apartment, on his couch, drinking coffee he made for me and letting him hold my hand. I'm glad he knows about my dad now, too. And even though I'm still embarrassed by my behavior last night, he doesn't appear to think any less of me for anything that I did... in spite of the fact that I think I might have kissed him and rubbed myself against his chest. That part's really hazy though. Maybe that was a dream, not reality.

We look at each other in silence for a minute and then I exhale loudly. I don't even know what time it is. I've already ruined his night last night. I really shouldn't take up his entire Friday, too.

I raise my mug of coffee to my lips and drink the last little bit.

"Well, I should get dressed. Do you mind taking me back to my truck?" I ask.

"Not at all. Whenever you're ready. I washed your clothes – I hope that was okay. You spilled a lot of alcohol on them, so they smelled pretty bad," he says sheepishly. I feel my face flushing from the bottom up and worry again about how much I've inconvenienced Edward.

"Thanks," I mumble, looking down.

"Hey," he says sternly, waiting until I raise my eyes back up before he continues. "Stop that. Your clothes are on my bed. If you want to shower, you can. Want to eat lunch with me at the bar before you go home? It's our Friday thing, you know... lunch."

I laugh lightly then. "It was one time, Edward," I say.

"Well, then if we have lunch again today, it'll become our Friday thing," he insists.

"Okay. I'd like that," I answer. My heart starts hammering away in my chest and I look down at my lap again. He wants to eat lunch with me… right? I hope this isn't about what I just told him. I don't want him to pity me, and I definitely don't want him to hang out with me just because he pities me.

I force myself to look back up at him. He's smiling crookedly at me again and I smile back, relieved that I don't see a trace of _that_ look – that look I got from everyone last year. That look that said, "I feel so sorry for you, poor Bella." Edward just looks at me like he usually does.

He stands up, not releasing my hand and pulls the blanket off my legs. He helps me up off the couch and trades me the empty coffee mug for the full water bottle, reminding me to rehydrate. After he tells me where to find clean towels, I turn to walk down the hall to his room and I hear him walk into the kitchen behind me.

* * *

**EPOV**

As soon as Bella goes to my room to shower, I grab our empty coffee mugs and walk into the kitchen. As I rinse them and put them and the empty coffee carafe into the dishwasher, I try to wrap my mind around what she's just told me. After turning off the faucet, I dry my hands and then shut the dishwasher door a little harder than necessary, kicking it shut with my bare foot. Sighing heavily, I walk down the hall to the extra bathroom. Once I'm inside with the light on and the door shut, I put my palms down on the vanity top and look down at the counter, shaking my head.

Jesus fucking Christ, every time I think I can't possibly feel like more of a prick, I prove myself wrong. I was jealous of Bella's dead father! Well, sort of. I didn't know it was her dead father I was jealous of at the time. But that doesn't really make me feel like any less of an asshole.

Sitting on the couch with Bella this morning before she told me what happened, I was about to explode, thinking I was going to have to hear about some other guy she's in love with... or used to be in love with... or couldn't get over losing. But I tried to behave myself and be her friend – Rosalie's words about friendship and trust haunting me – even though I wanted to pout like a little kid... wanted to yell... wanted to hit something.

I wasn't expecting to hear that her tears and crying were over her dad. I wasn't prepared to feel so elated that she isn't in love with someone else, then so shitty about myself for kind of being happy that it was her dad she was sad about... but that only lasted a second.

The thing I really wasn't prepared for was how much I wanted to take away her pain. My chest physically ached as I thought about how badly she must be hurting now... and how terrible it must have been for her when it happened last year. She didn't mention her mother, and, shit, if it was just her and her dad practically her whole life and then he was ripped away from her... I can't imagine how torn apart she must have been. I'm not really a hugger, but I've never wanted to hug someone as much as I wanted to hug her then. Jesus, I couldn't even think of anything comforting to say.

Then I was irrationally pissed for a minute at Jake and Jared for leaving her yesterday when she was so upset. After a minute, though, I decided they must not have known what was going on with her. They both seem like good guys and they treat her like a sister. I don't think they would abandon her any more than I would abandon Rosalie if she was upset.

When Bella joked about being so drunk last night, it made me laugh and I was back to being happy that the coast is still clear where the ballerina is concerned, which led me right back to feeling like a prick.

I look up at myself in the mirror. "Cullen, you are a class A asshole," I tell the guy looking back at me.

The asshole in the mirror tries to defend himself, reminding me that I _was_ practically a saint last night at the bar – pushing the jealous rage aside because she was so goddamned wrecked – all I wanted was to make her feel better – and then to beat the shit out of the motherfucker who was making her cry.

Then, Jesus Christ, the little stunt she pulled with the cigarettes and the kissing almost completely tanked any good intentions I had. My dick may not recover for a week from all that teasing. But again, I was a gentleman. I only touched safe areas – never veering too near her tits or ass. If we hadn't been outside where anyone could see us, I'm not entirely sure I would have been so noble though.

When I brought her here, I behaved myself for the most part. I did touch her legs, but, Christ, given her state of undress, I think I did well to stop there. Besides, I've been waiting over two months to get my hands on those legs. I hope I don't have to wait two more months to touch them again.

As I look into the mirror, jacking with my hair for at least the fourth time this morning, I know Emmett was right about both things he told me last week: She's the best thing that's ever walked into my life and it's time for me to get off my ass.

When I walk out of the bathroom, I hear the water still running in my shower. Jesus, that's all I need – to be standing here thinking about Bella being naked in the next fucking room… naked and wet... in my shower ...alone.

Christ, this woman is going to drive me insane before I get her in my bed for something other than sleep. I lean against the wall in the hallway and run my hands roughly up and down my face trying to rub out the image stuck in my head. Exhaling the breath I didn't realize I was holding, I let my head fall back against the wall and stare up at the ceiling.

Goddamn, I'm such an asshole... who's having lunch with the ballerina. Pushing off the wall, I walk toward the living room not quite able to wipe the smile off my face. I'm so fucked.

* * *

When I hear my bedroom door open fifteen minutes later, I get up from the couch and toss the magazine I was reading down onto the coffee table. When she comes into the room dressed in clothes that I know smell like me with her wet hair in a ponytail, I can't stop the grin that spreads across my face.

"What?" she asks suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at me.

I shake my head at her and chuckle quietly. "Nothing, ballerina. You ready?" I ask. She nods, so I switch off the lights and open the door for her. Silently, we walk down the hall and wait for the elevator. When we get on the elevator, I swallow nervously. I was going to wait and ask in the car, but I'm too fucking jumpy. I need to get it out.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving next month, Bella?" I ask, turning my head to look at her beside me as I nudge her gently with my elbow.

"I don't know. Probably nothing. Jacob's family invited me, but I don't think I can go back home to Forks again for awhile," she answers, shrugging as she looks up at me. She turns her head to face forward again and jams her hands into the pockets of my hoodie. I washed it for her too, even though I was tempted to steal it back because it smelled like her. I turn to face her, my heart pounding in my chest. Fuck! I haven't done this in years.

"You should come to Thanksgiving at my parents' house," I say, hearing how unsteady my voice sounds. She turns her head to look at me curiously, then turns her entire body, cocking her head at me slightly. She smiles at me, but her eyes don't shine like they usually do.

"Thanks, that's sweet. But I would feel like I was intruding on your family time," she answers, looking directly into my eyes.

"Why? We're friends, you and Rose are friends, you've already met my mom…..plus, Emmett's coming," I argue.

"That's different. Emmett and Rose are dating," she retorts, giving me the perfect opportunity. I swallow needlessly, hoping to stop the flopping of my stomach.

"So… go out with me tonight. Then we'll be dating, too," I counter, smiling crookedly and breathing so fast that I'll probably fucking pass out from carbon dioxide buildup before she answers.

Her lips fall apart slightly and she stares at me with big, round eyes. If she wasn't slowly blinking, I'd think she was in shock. I'm hoping this is a good sign. If she didn't want to go, she'd make a gagging noise or something, right? Suddenly, her lips move like she's going to say something, but no noise comes out of her mouth.

I swallow again and force a chuckle even though I don't fucking feel like laughing. "Bella? Jesus, you sure know how to wound a guy's ego," I make myself say teasingly, reaching up to grasp the strings of the hood on her sweatshirt and tugging lightly before letting go. Shit, I hope she can't tell that I'm sweating bullets under my shirt waiting for her to answer.

"But... but you don't date….Emmett said," she stutters, still blinking up at me.

"Yeah, well I also don't bring girls to my condo, so I guess I'm breaking all my rules for you," I say, half-smiling and shifting my weight nervously from foot to foot. Is she going to say yes or not?

She bites her bottom lip and her face relaxes as the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. "You…..you really don't bring girls here?" she asks.

I want to groan in frustration because she still hasn't fucking answered me, but I shake my head at her instead. "I really don't," I confirm.

Her smile widens and her brown eyes shine as they bore into mine. "Only drunk friends who are girls, huh?" she asks teasingly.

"Not even them. I made an exception for you, ballerina."

She giggles a little, then her expression dissolves into skepticism. "This isn't a pity date, is it?"

This time I do groan, letting my head fall forward toward my chest for a second before I look back up at her. The elevator comes to a stop in the underground parking garage and dings softly as the doors open.

"No, Bella. It's not a pity date," I finally answer, putting a hand on her waist to guide her off the elevator. I was intending to let her go when she started walking, but she moves in close to my side to walk right next to me, so I slide my hand farther around her to keep her in place. I dig my keys from my pocket with my other hand and see the red taillights of my car flash as the doors unlock. I walk Bella to the passenger side, but instead of opening the door for her, I trap her against the car, putting my hands on the roof on either side of her shoulders.

She smirks up at me, knowing that she hasn't answered me. I'm sure now that she's screwing with me… that she's going to say yes, so I smirk back.

"Come on, ballerina. Don't make me wait – give me an answer," I say, wrapping her wet ponytail around my hand.

She keeps her eyes locked on mine as she slowly nods.

"Yeah?" I say, quirking an eyebrow at her, fighting the urge to laugh in relief. My fucking heart starts racing again – shit, now I'm nervous about where to take her. Thank God Emmett's working this afternoon. He'll help me. I'll have to listen to all kinds of smart-ass comments all day, but he likes Bella enough that he'll want to help me not totally mess this up.

"Yes, Edward," she says.

Slowly, never breaking eye contact with her, I lean the rest of the way in, only sliding my eyes shut after she does. I press my lips against hers softly, letting go of her hair and using both of my hands to cup the sides of her head. I pull away slightly, but move back in when she puts her hands on my upper arms and tugs me back toward her. We both keep our lips open as our mouths meet, pull apart, then meet again several times, but neither of us deepens the kiss. I'm content with the safer kisses for now. Now that I know there will be a later.

Finally pulling completely away from her, I open my eyes and smile at her again, noting that her eyes are slightly glassy as she smiles back. I take a step back and open the passenger door for her, then shut it once she's inside.

I exhale loudly as I walk around the back of the car. "I think she's actually _trying_ to kill me," I mutter to myself, shaking my head. Oh, well. What a fucking way to go.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Long wait for a long chapter. Sorry. My time-management skills apparently suck. :)**

**Humungo thanks to windgirl810 for the mad beta'ing skills. Could not love her more.**

**This story has been nominated for an award in the Twinkle Toes category of the Walk of Fame Awards on 'The Twinklings' blog. Check it out if you're interested - it's a great place to find good stories you didn't know about (or at least I didn't know about). What does it mean that I've read almost all the smut noms? ha No idea who nom'd me, but thank you... and get better meds. ;)**

**Address: twinklingswfa. blogspot. com **

**Lots of you found me through Ironic Twist - her masterpiece _The Harder They Fall_ is also nominated. If you're reading it and love it like me, go vote for her! If you're not reading it, what the hell is wrong with you? Get over there and read it. Don't let the length scare you... it's worth the hours. And really, laundry will always be there. (This may be where I run into trouble with the time management stuff.)**

**I have a funny story about my mom, but this is already too long, so I'll save it for next chap. She's not drinking again, unfortunately. Those were the days...both of them.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

**

* * *

**

BPOV

During the drive over to the bar, Edward and I talk about music and discover that we like a lot of the same bands. He doesn't like hip hop though. I've spent so much time dancing to it with Seth lately that I've started listening to it more when I'm not dancing, liking the heavy bass beat. Seth is still trying to teach me everything he knows before he leaves town in a month.

Edward promises to give hip hop a shot if I promise to listen to some old 80's punk – which I've never listened to before – with him. After we shake on it, he drags his fingers across my palm as he releases my hand, tickling me. The way he's smiling at me combined with the way he just grazed his fingers against mine causes flutters of warmth to rush through my body. I'm not sure how this keeps happening – how he makes my body react so immediately, so intensely, to even casual touches… but I hope it doesn't stop anytime soon.

As we pull into the parking lot between our buildings, he glances over at me. "Emmett and Rose are already here," he says unnecessarily; it's impossible to avoid seeing that Emmett's huge jeep is parked in its usual spot.

"Okay," I reply slowly, looking back at him blankly.

"I... um...," he stammers, clearly agitated as he pushes his hand through his hair roughly. He sighs loudly as he parks the car next to the Full Moon's side door. "They're probably going to give us a bunch of shit, you know, when we walk in together," he says nervously, turning his head to look at me.

Ah, now I get it. He doesn't want me walking in with him. I inhale quickly and force my lips to curl into a smile so he doesn't see how disappointed I am that he doesn't want people to know about us... not that there's officially an "us". But I did think we were getting somewhere this morning. "I can go over to the studio if you don't want me to come in with you," I offer with a fake smile on my face and a fake chipper tone in my voice.

He's shaking his head at me before I finish speaking. "I just didn't want you to walk in unprepared. I want you to come in… with me," he insists. He looks sincere, which changes my fake smile to a real one in the space of one heartbeat. "If you're okay with it."

Okay with it? Oh, hell yeah. Still smiling, I nod as I answer him. "I can handle Emmett and Rose."

As he opens his door, his face breaks into a quick grin and he mutters something under his breath that sounds like "no shit, you can handle them", making me laugh quietly as I get out my side. He's still grinning as he waits for me at the front of the car and then he opens the door to the bar for me, holding it as he puts a hand on my lower back to guide me in. He's done that before, but it feels different to me today... and he doesn't let go once we're inside.

Emmett is standing behind the bar, his head turned away from us, using the beverage gun to fill a glass with soda. He begins to speak loudly without looking toward the door – he probably heard the noisy, unmistakable rumble of Edward's car when we drove in. I always hear it if I'm at the studio when he arrives, although I might be listening for it a bit more than others do.

"Well, look who finally fucking decided to show- ," Emmett says sarcastically, his voice cutting off abruptly when he glances over and sees me walking beside Edward, sees Edward's arm resting on my back. "Tiny?" he asks, turning his body toward us, surprise evident on his face.

"Hi, Emmett," I say brightly, as Edward and I continue walking toward the bar. Emmett is still staring, his thumb still pressing the coke button on the gun. "You're spilling," I point out, trying not to laugh at the fact that he's streaming soda directly onto the floor behind the bar.

"Shit," he exclaims quietly, putting the gun away and grabbing paper towels from under the bar to start mopping up his mess.

Looking around, I spot Rose sitting in a booth on the far wall, wearing sunglasses even though it's not bright in here, her head cradled in her hands. When I peek over my shoulder at Edward, he's laughing quietly, looking back at me. "I'm going to go talk to Rose," I tell him. He nods and tugs lightly on the back of my hoodie before letting go as I walk toward Rose while he turns to go behind the bar.

As I get closer to Rose, she picks up what looks like a bloody Mary in front of her, finishing the little bit that was left in the glass. She doesn't look my way, but she doesn't seem surprised when I slide into the other side of the booth. "Hi, Rosalie," I say.

"Not so loud, Bella. I'm way hung over," she whimpers, still staring down into her drink.

"Sorry," I whisper, leaning across the table toward her slightly. "Can I do anything for you?"

"No, once the bloody Mary and painkillers set in, I'll be okay. And since Edward's decided to show up, I can go home and take a nap. Although now he wants me to work for him tonight, too. Dickhead," she grumbles. She jabs the straw around in the glass and sucks at it again, trying to get a little more to drink, but there's really nothing left. She huffs as she sets the glass down forcefully, then cringes at the sound of glass and wood meeting.

I smirk at her downturned head, but say innocently, "Want me to call off the date so you don't have to work?"

She slowly raises her head to look at me… I think. She's still wearing the sunglasses, so I can't tell if her eyes are open or not. "He's taking you out? It's about fucking time," she says, still sounding grumpy, but her lips are turned up into a slight smile now. She rubs her fingers slowly against her temples and slouches down in the booth, resting her head on the top of the backrest. "How come you're not as hung over as I am? You were _le_ _trashed_ last night."

I shrug nonchalantly even though I'm not feeling nonchalant about anything today. "Your brother took care of me. And I probably had more sleep than you," I offer.

"You didn't sleep with my brother, did you?" she asks. She doesn't lift her head, but her tone is much more serious than a moment ago.

I frown slightly, wondering why it should matter to her, but I answer honestly. "Technically, yes. Figure of speech-wise, no."

"So you slept in the same bed, but there was no sex?" she deduces. I mmhmm quietly, trying to keep my face neutral, just in case she's looking. "Whose bed?" she pries.

"His," I answer.

Slowly, she sits up, pulls her sunglasses off and leans forward across the table toward me. "You know he doesn't do that shit, right?" she asks, her beautiful blue eyes tinged with pink as she looks at me intently.

"Mmhmm," I say again.

She shakes her head slowly. "Well, son of a bitch. The stupid candy ass grew some brains and balls after all." She chuckles lightly, then slouches back into her earlier position, leaving the sunglasses off this time.

"If you don't want me to hear what you're saying about me, you'd better stop talking," Edward says from a few feet away as he approaches us. Smiling, I turn to look at him as he gets nearer. "How ya doin', sis?" he says loudly, smirking when she cringes and bends forward to lay her head down on top of the table.

He's carrying two drinks and he sets one in front of each of us, then sits down beside me, sliding over right next to me so that our shoulders, hips and legs are touching.

"Edward, that's just cruel. I don't _have_ to work for you tonight, you know. Emmett and I already came in for you this morning to cover deliveries," she mumbles, still face-down on the table.

He chuckles lightly, but reaches across the table to pat the crown of Rose's head gently. "Sorry. Drink up, girls. I made you each a spicy drink. It cures just about everything."

"I don't think I need one. I feel okay," I answer. Thinking about alcohol is enough to make my stomach a little queasy again.

"Yeah, I know you do now, ballerina, but this will keep it that way," he explains.

The front door opens and Rose looks up, mutters the f-word under her breath and looks pleadingly at Edward. He turns around to see who came in and calls, "Hi, Mom," cheerily, waving her over.

"Hello, my babies…and hello, Bella. Having a little hair of the dog, ladies?" Esme asks as she chuckles. We both nod.

"Yes, Mom. They both got shit-faced last night and Emmett and I had to take care of them," Edward answers with a serious face, sounding like a total suck up. He bumps me with his shoulder teasingly. I elbow him back lightly, smiling when he laughs.

"That's nice, dear. Everyone needs someone to take care of," Esme says distractedly, studying Edward, then me, then Edward again. "Edward, I'll take one of those drinks, too."

"Were you drunk last night, too?" he grins. Esme laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard, causing Rose to roll her eyes.

"No, no, darling. It just looks good. Now get going," she says, smiling down at him.

"Yes, ma'am," he answers. He turns to grin at me as he gets up.

Esme sits down beside me as soon as he leaves. "Other than hung over, how are you two?" she asks.

"Good, Mom. Everything's good," Rose answers, picking her sunglasses up and sliding them back on.

"Me, too. Everything's good," I answer.

"Mmhmm… I think I noticed that everything was good," she smiles at me.

"Edward and Bella have a date tonight," Rosalie offers. She's always happy to put the spotlight on someone else when her mother's around. She complains often about Esme, but they seem close despite the amount of bickering I've heard when I've been around them.

Esme laughs lightly, looking at me. "Really? He finally wised up, did he? I couldn't get anything out of him at dinner last night and was afraid he was screwing it all up. So, where are you going?" she asks me, her freaky Edward-eyes all lit up.

I shrug one shoulder. "I don't know. We didn't really talk about it in specifics."

"Hmm. I think I'll go have my drink at the bar," she says, sweeping out of the booth and heading for Edward. I turn around and see him narrow his eyes at Rose while she gives him a huge smile. She turns back to me laughing quietly.

"I feel better, remarkably. Does your mother annoy you as much as mine does me?" she asks.

"Definitely," I answer, looking down at the table and suddenly wishing I had sunglasses to hide behind, too. Oh, well. I'll have to settle for the bloody Mary. I pick it up and drink about a third of it without stopping. Oh, my God, it's so spicy. I will be really embarrassed if I choke on this.

"Slow down, Bella. Jeez, was it something I said?" Rose asks. I guess her eyes are open behind the dark lenses.

"No, no. Just thirsty," I say, firing a quick smile at her before diverting the conversation. "Are we still on for tomorrow afternoon? Your… uh… lesson?" I say, dropping my voice down so it's barely louder than a whisper.

"Yeah. Emmett's birthday is right after Halloween. So I only have a couple of weeks," she says, using her finger to rub at her temples again.

"I may have to be drunk again to do this," I mutter, poking my straw around my drink until I find the olives that I've seen Edward put in bloody Marys before. I stab one with the straw and slide it up the inside of the glass until I can grab it with my fingers and pop it in my mouth. I didn't realize until just now, but I'm starving. When's the last time I ate? I guess it was lunch yesterday on the way back from Forks with Jake and Jared. No wonder this olive tastes like the best thing I've ever eaten. I pull my glass closer and dig my straw around again, searching for the second one.

"Bella, it'll just be us and Alice. What's a little skin show between friends?" Rose asks, laughing a little.

"Huh?" Edward asks from beside the table. I jerk my head up to look at him. I didn't even notice him coming. I feel my face redden while Rose laughs at me from across the table and then, thankfully, Edward shifts his eyes to Rose. "Mom wants you to have lunch with her here."

"But I'm working," Rose protests. I find the other olive and manage to get it out of the glass quickly and eat it.

Edward laughs loudly at that statement. "Yeah, I can tell by the way you're sitting over here holding your head and drinking my booze." I take another big sip of the drink, then decide I've had enough.

Mumbling under her breath, Rose slides out of the booth and heads toward the bar where Esme is sitting, chatting animatedly with Emmett.

I start to scoot out of my side of the booth, but Edward puts a knee on the seat so I can't get out. "Where are you going, ballerina?" he asks, looking in my eyes.

"I'm going to the studio for a little while. I need to clean up over there," I answer.

"Okay. They'll never leave us alone today anyway. You want to eat lunch at the studio instead? I'll bring whatever you want," he says, smiling down at me as he steps back so I can get up.

I smile at him as I stand. "Sure. I want anything…with fries," I answer.

He grins down at me and walks with me to the side door of the bar, waiting patiently as I stop to tell Esme and Rose goodbye. He pushes the door open for me and I speed up to get past him, feeling awkward and not knowing what to say.

"Bella," he says. I turn around. "I'll be over in a little while." He smiles at me and I nod back before walking briskly across the parking lot to my door.

* * *

When I get inside the studio, I go into Studio 1 and find my iPod on the stereo dock where I left it yesterday. Yesterday I played my slowest, saddest songs as I tried to dance some of the pain away. Today, though, I turn on my favorite fast song playlist – the one with all the songs that are inappropriate for students so I can only play them when I'm here alone. I smile as the music starts, humming along to myself.

I grab a rag and dust the shelves in the room. I wipe down the barre. I contemplate cleaning the mirrors, but that takes a while so I decide I'd rather do that tomorrow. Finally, I cave and opt to do what I've wanted to for the last couple of hours: Dance.

Dance has always been two things for me: a celebration and an escape. When I'm happy, the first thing I want to do is dance. Conversely, when I'm upset, the only thing I want to do is dance. Well, except yesterday when I drank instead, but I'm trying not to dwell on that.

Today it's happy dancing time.

In the bathroom, I change into a cami and booty shorts, then grab my paws from my dance bag and walk back into the studio, hanging a sweat towel and Edward's hoody from one end of the barre. Standing in front of the mirror, I switch my hair from a ponytail into a loose bun, slide the paws onto my feet and smile at the ballerina looking back at me.

Giggling, I move to stand at the barre and spend several minutes stretching, warming up. Plié, plié, grande plié, tendu, dégagé, rond de jambe, grand battement en cloche, arabesque. Turn and repeat on other side. I do the entire sequence again on both legs, then roll my ankles, my shoulders and my neck. Finally, I feel warm enough to do what I've been dying to do: Leap.

I start with split leaps. Chassé, step, leap. Chassé, step, leap. Chassé, step, leap. I do a few more, then progress to side leaps. I move on to leap turns. Chaînés relevé, chaînés plié, leap and turn. I chassé, step, kick, leap my way into a few switch leaps. Then finally, I do my favorite leaps – calypso leaps – across the floor until I almost run into the wall on the far end of the room.

Laughing at myself, I move back to the center of the room, fanning my face with my hands. I'm getting sweaty faster than normal, probably from the amount of residual alcohol left in my system. I'm sweating it out now though – it most likely smells like a distillery in here. I walk to the barre to grab my sweat towel and blot my face and neck.

When a big band cover of _Creep_ begins playing next, I can't stop myself from turning. It's one of my favorite songs to turn to...it's fast and jazzy with cussing, which makes me laugh. I start slowly with a leg sweep attitude turn. It's pretty, but too slow for my mood right now.

So I face the mirror again. Fifth position, second position in tendu, fourth position prep, push off into pirouette, then double, then triple pirouette. I repeat on the other leg.

Going back to my dominant leg, I turn again. Pencil turn, pirouette à la seconde, spiral. I repeat those on my weak leg.

Finally, I do what I think is the most joyful turn: The fouetté. The up and down, kick and turn motion always felt bubbly to me, but I'm not sure that I've ever felt this bubbly before I started rotating.

I do seven revolutions before stopping and starting again on the other leg, repeating the seven turns. I go back to the first leg, spotting the clock above the door in the mirror on each revolution. On my eighth time around, someone is standing in the doorway behind me.

I gasp and stop immediately, then laugh when I realize it's Edward ...with food that smells really good.

"Sorry, ballerina. I knocked forever before I tried the door," he says, grinning at me. Suddenly his eyes widen and his mouth gapes open. "What the fuck? What did they do to this song?" he asks disbelievingly. When we talked about music this morning, he named Radiohead as one of his favorite bands and named this song along with _Karma Police_ as two of their best.

I walk over to turn the volume down, laughing. "It's just a faster version, Edward. I like the original, it's just too slow to dance to. This version is fun."

"It's sacrilege." He's serious.

"Do you overreact to everything?" I ask, turning to smile at him.

"Pretty much. It's from my mother's side of the family," he laughs, his face settling into that crooked smile I love. "Lunch is served." He holds up a bag.

"Let's go eat in my office," I say. I grab Edward's hoody from the barre and lead the way. In my office, I pull cropped yoga pants on over my booty shorts – and notice Edward watching slyly… the same way I would if he was running around in shorts that barely covered his butt. He expertly pretends to be preoccupied with setting our food out, but I see his eyes slide my way several times, sending my heart into excited flutters again.

After I get us drinks from my fridge, we sit down sideways on the futon, facing each other. We talk easily as we eat our greasy burgers and fries. Once again, it amazes me that I can be so nervous and yet so comfortable around him.

"Thanks for bringing me lunch, Edward. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I smelled this. God, it's so good," I say, half moaning after I swallow another bite. I don't think anything's ever tasted better.

"You're welcome, ballerina. So... tonight. I thought I'd pick you up around five," he says when he's finished.

I let my eyes go wide as I stare at him. "Five? Sheesh, Edward, are you taking me for the early-bird special at IHOP or something?" I ask with a serious face.

He laughs before he answers. "No, smartass. I'm taking you to Pike Place and I thought we could look around for a while before we eat. And I have a feeling you'll tire out on me pretty early tonight after your big night out last night," he says smirking at me.

"How long are you going to rub that in?" I groan, but I'm smiling at him.

"How long am I going to get away with it?" he retorts, leaning forward to steal French fries out of my container since his are gone.

"I don't know. It might be a decade before my embarrassment wears off," I say disparagingly.

"Bella, you know I'm teasing you, right?" he asks, reaching toward my face with one hand and tucking the hair that's fallen out of my bun back behind my ear.

I nod, finishing the last bite of my burger and holding the container open toward him so he can finish the fries.

When he says he has to get back to the bar to help with the lunch crowd, I walk him to the door and he runs his hand down my arm lightly then squeezes my hand. "I'll see you in a few hours," he says, smiling at me. I wonder for a second if he'll kiss me again, but he doesn't make any move to. Smiling up at him, I squeeze back as he walks out the door, keeping our hands joined until they naturally break apart as he backs away. When he finally turns around to walk across the parking lot, I stare at his cute little butt for a minute before I shut the door.

Still grinning, I walk into my office and grab my cell phone, pushing number one on my speed dial. As soon as I hear the voice answer on the other end, I start talking.

"Hey, it's me. I need a favor. Are you busy this afternoon? Great. Can you meet me at my apartment in thirty?"

* * *

I hear my front door open and close, followed by Alice's quick steps across the tile floor of my tiny entryway.

"Bella! Where are you?" she calls.

"Bedroom," I answer.

"What's going on? What do you need help with?" she says as she comes into the room, dropping her purse onto the chair by my door. She furrows her brow as she takes in the sight of me sitting cross-legged in the middle of my bed surrounded by about half the clothes from my closet.

"Don't freak out." I say, voice firm, face stern.

"I won't."

"Don't scream," I warn.

"Okay, I won't. Just tell me what's going on."

I take a deep breath. "I have a date with Edward tonight and I need you to help me pick out an outfit," I blurt out quickly and then cover my ears with my hands, keeping my eyes on her... waiting for the screaming to commence.

She stands at the side of the bed and clasps her hands together, twisting them vigorously back and forth. She rolls her lips together. I can see that she's trying not to blow because she knows that her squealing and bouncing drive me insane. Still, I'm surprised that she's containing herself. I can tell by her shining eyes that she's excited. I gingerly lower my hands, hoping the threat of ear-splitting decibels has passed.

"Bella, that's lovely news," she says calmly. Surprised at her wording, I start to giggle and she smiles back at me. "If I don't scream, can I jump on your bed?" she asks in the same soft, composed voice.

"No!" I answer forcefully, laughing harder at the paradox between her words and her tone.

"So, what? You called me over here to test my self-control? To torture me?" she says, amused.

"No, I called you over here to help me decide what to wear," I say. "You have better fashion sense than I do... or so you tell me." I smirk up at her.

"Don't take it personally, B," she says, winking at me. "I have better fashion sense than almost everyone." We both laugh, then she quizzes me on where we're going and what we're doing before examining the items I've already laid on the bed. I'm very impressed with her maturity, but when I tell her that, she sticks her tongue out at me, so I laughingly retract my statement as she looks through the clothes I laid out.

"He likes the stuff you wear already, so we need to make you look like you, just... better," she pronounces, separating the clothes on my bed into two piles.

"Better?" I ask. That hurt my feelings a little.

"Less collegiate," she says, pointing to the pile with the jeans and t-shirts. "More grown up," she finishes, pointing to the other pile. She continues talking, but her words are muffled since she has her entire body in my small closet now. I can make out a steady stream of "No... no... no," though as she slides hangers across the clothes bar.

Less than two minutes later, she turns back toward the bed, her arms filled with more clothes.

"You actually have some really great pieces, B. We just need to... mix it up a little," she smiles, encouraging me.

We trade places, Alice sitting on the bed and handing me various tops and bottoms to try on for her. While I'm playing mannequin, she bombards me with more questions: When he asked, how he asked, where we were, if he kissed me. I reluctantly decide it's easier to tell her the whole story about last night. Uncharacteristically, she remains completely silent until I'm finished.

Expecting a comment from her but not getting one, I turn around from the mirror to look at her. Her eyes are teary as she stares back at me.

"Why didn't you call me? I was afraid going home would upset you, but I thought you'd let me know if you needed me," she whispers. "I'm so sorry I didn't check on you yesterday."

She climbs off the bed and pulls me into a hug. "I'm okay, Alice. I had one bad day. You know more than anyone that I used to have them a lot more than I do now," I reply. "And you got me through all of them."

She pulls back slightly to look at me. "I'd do anything for you, Bella," she says.

"Me too, you," I answer.

"I'd be your surrogate if you couldn't have babies," she says, repeating our old schtick from college days.

"I'd give you the shots if you had rabies," I say, starting to laugh.

"Romeo and Juliet couldn't match our devotion," she says as she giggles, too.

"If you needed me, I'd swim across any ocean," I say, laughing so hard I can barely speak.

"I'd give you money if you couldn't pay your bills," she says, finishing her part.

"You bring the crazy, I'll bring the pills," I pronounce as we collapse onto the bed, on top of the piles of clothes, still laughing.

We lie next to each other on our backs, both of us staring at the ceiling for a couple of minutes. "That's the most pathetic poem ever. If it wasn't ours, I'd throw up a little," she says quietly, amused.

"I know, Al," I agree. "Remember the night we made it up? We did throw up a little," I say.

"But that was because of all the tequila," she laughs. "Love you lots," she says seriously, turning her head to look at me.

"Love you lots, too," I answer, looking back at her.

"Okay, let's find you an outfit for your incredibly hot date," she declares, sitting up and sifting through the clothes on the bed until she finds something she wants me to try on. I stand up and pull on the leggings and tunic she chose. I look in the mirror and wrinkle my nose. It's an okay outfit, but not really what I had in mind for my first date with Edward. I turn to look at her and she's shaking her head, already holding out something else for me to try on. We eventually agree on my favorite skinny, black pants, but most of the shirts she wants me to wear are too... see through. But we keep trying.

While I'm changing – again – she clears her throat softly, making me look over at her. When I see the gleam in her eye, I know she's getting ready to ask me something embarrassing. I drop my gaze to the buttons on my shirt and wonder what's brewing in her cute, little head.

"So… Edward saw your undies, huh?" she says nosily, waiting until I look at her again to wiggle her eyebrows up and down. I should have known that part of last night's story wouldn't just slide by her.

"He said just a tiny bit," I say, feeling my face flush.

She gasps, her eyes widening melodramatically. I knew she wouldn't be able to hold it in all afternoon. "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Please tell me they were good undies and not those horrendous, stretchy, tan-colored ones you love," she says, alarmed.

"They were good ones," I mumble, rolling my eyes at her and turning away to look at her latest clothing combination in the mirror. She doesn't squeal like she probably wants to, but I hear her quietly clapping her hands quickly behind me, making me smile even though I shake my head.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, I've exfoliated, showered, and lotioned my body. I've washed, dried, and straightened my hair. I've successfully reeled Alice in on the makeup, letting her choose the lipstick, but drawing the line at smoky eyes. Too formal for where we're going, too sexy for a first date… and too not me.

I'm wearing the skinny, black pants. Eventually, Alice and I compromised on a white, sleeveless, v-neck shirt that accentuates what small cleavage I have and a black shrunken blazer over the top. Initially, I thought it was too boring, but Alice shook her head and once I was dressed, I saw she was right. I vetoed the heels she chose, claiming I didn't want to totter around Pike Place unsteadily with Edward. She gave in and chose black slingback flats instead.

Alice left about fifteen minutes ago, after entertaining me all afternoon, alleviating my first date anxiety the way a best friend should. But she didn't want to be here when Edward arrived – even though I begged her to hide in the bedroom and leave after us. She flatly refused, hugging me goodbye and leaving me here alone to pace nervously as I wait for Edward. I feel sick… Jesus, please don't let me throw up right before the biggest date I've ever had.

I know it's time, but I'm still startled by the soft knock at the door. Clutching my stomach to try and ward off the nausea, I walk to the door and check the peephole. It's him. I swallow nervously then open the door.

"Hey," he says, smiling crookedly at me.

"Hi," I reply, smiling back and opening the door wider to let him in. He looks really good, as usual.

"I made you something," he says, handing me a jewel case and then fidgeting restlessly as I examine it.

"You made me a CD?" I ask, looking up at him and grinning.

"Uh, yeah," he says, still looking nervous. I'm a little relieved that he's feeling the same way I am.

"A CD of punk?" I ask, reading the hand-written list of songs on the front of the jewel case. "And _Creep_?"

"You said you'd try it, the punk I mean… and I never want to hear that cover of Radiohead again," he says. His tone is serious, but when I look back up at him, he's smirking in the cutest way.

"Edward, thanks," I say sincerely. "I can't wait to listen to it." We stare at each other for a few seconds… I wonder if he wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him.

Eventually he shrugs one shoulder as he breaks the silence. "You want to bring it? We could listen to it in the car," he suggests. When I nod up at him eagerly, still smiling, his face breaks into a smile, too. "You ready?"

I nod again, more slowly this time, feeling ready for so much more than just this date. "Yes, Edward. I'm ready," I answer.

* * *

Edward and I spend over an hour walking around, wandering through several eclectic shops and a couple of art galleries. I ask him why he hasn't really decorated his condo – he owns it, which I didn't realize this morning. I thought he was a renter, like me, but he told me a few minutes ago that he bought the condo about a year ago, once the bar was solidly profitable.

"I haven't taken the time to find what I really want, I guess. I should though, huh?" he says, looking intently at some black and white photos of the Cascades.

"Mmhmm. You like these?" I say, standing next to him, looking up at the same pictures.

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know. I'm not good at this shit," he admits, looking down at me. He reminds me that it's almost time for our dinner reservation, so we leave the gallery and walk to the restaurant.

We're seated immediately in a tiny, corner booth near the back of the restaurant. I've never been here before and Edward says he hasn't either. We scoot in from either side, but both slide toward the center so we're sitting pretty close together, our knees bumping under the table. There's a flickering tea light on the table in front of us and I smile softly, biting my lower lip, as I look around. Without even having dinner, this is the best date I've ever had.

When he asked me out this morning, I didn't care where we were going. I just wanted to go. Almost every first date I've been on involved dinner and a movie, so I assumed this would be the same. But it's not. It's not – because it's Edward and because he made me a CD and because he wants to spend the whole evening getting to know me instead of spending half the date in a dark theater where we can't talk. And because he's sitting close to me in this booth, looking at me intently.

"What?" I ask, still smiling.

"I should have told you earlier, ballerina. You look really pretty tonight," he says, swallowing audibly. "I mean, shit, you always do, but …jeez, I'm fucking this up." He laughs a bit and shakes his head.

"Edward," I begin, but he's leaning in toward me and I completely lose my train of thought.

"You're beautiful, Bella," he says quietly, his face only inches from mine. Oh, shit. He's going to kiss me – not because he's mad, not as a favor to me, not when I'm drunk or hung over. A real, because-I-like-you kiss.

A man clears his throat loudly right in front of our table. "Good evening. My name is Dale and I'll be your server. Would you like to see the wine list?"

Both Edward and I turn to look at Dale – actually, glare might be a better description of how _I'm_ looking at him. Dale doesn't seem to notice that he's interrupted what might have been the most romantic moment of my life to this point though. Edward sits back up and accepts the wine list from him, quickly choosing a bottle of wine for us. I'm afraid it won't taste good to me after my overindulgence last night, but when Dale reappears a few minutes later and pours it for us, I discover that I was wrong. Edward chose a white wine so light and crisp that I drink a glass and a half by the time we're done eating.

I'm astounded that talking to him is still so easy for me… as we're getting to know each other better, the subject matter is becoming less shallow. We make it through the minefields of religion and politics with no problems, finding ourselves like-minded for the most part politically. Religion isn't a big deal for me – my dad wasn't religious and didn't push it on me. I've been to several different churches with different friends. I can take it or leave it. Edward's family is Catholic.

"Were you a good Catholic boy?" I ask, smiling over at him. We're both finished and we've agreed that we're too full for dessert even though the dessert tray Dale presents has several items that are tempting.

"I think Emmett's probably told you enough that you know I wasn't," he laughs, looking embarrassed. His cheeks are even a little pink.

"Edward, you know I'm teasing you, right?" I ask, echoing his words from earlier today.

He nods, looking into my eyes. "I know, ballerina. You up for a little more looking around?" After I say yes, he pays Dale – whom I'm still a little bitter toward – and we walk outside, heading up a different street where the shops are still open.

We stop in a glass and metal art gallery, each of us pointing out pieces we like. As we're standing in front of a copper wall sculpture, Edward's hand closes around mine for the first time – not the first time ever, but the first time on a date. It's the first time we _hold _hands – for more than a minute anyway.

He does it nonchalantly, as if it's not the first time, as if he always just slips his fingers between mine and presses our palms together. But he glances down at me, smiling uncertainly – looking to see if it's okay, I guess. Thank goodness he's not talking to me because my heart is pounding so loudly in my ears that I wouldn't be able to hear him… and I'm also fairly sure that I've lost the ability to speak coherently. My body reacts the way it always does when Edward is close to me – rushing blood, tingling skin, shallow breathing. When I smile back at him, his resulting crooked grin makes me ache with the desire to kiss him. Instead, I slide my thumb against his, up and down, slowly. Three times. I hear his breath hitch, see him swallow, and smile a little more widely as I face forward again, delighted that I seem to affect him the same way he affects me.

He squeezes my hand gently as he leads me away from the sculpture. We wander around the gallery for another fifteen minutes before ending up back in front of the same copper sculpture where he first grasped my hand. I think Edward really likes this piece because this is the third time he's stopped in front of it. He nudges me gently with his elbow.

"You like this one?" he asks. I turn my head to look up at him and study his profile as he continues facing the sculpture. Good God, he's beautiful… from every freaking angle. I bite back the sigh and turn forward again.

Of course I like it; it's what I was looking at when he first grabbed my hand. But I study the sculpture again, trying to be objective before I answer him; it's two vertically-hung, rectangular copper panels, one concave, the other convex. They are embossed with small circles – bunched together in a cluster at the top with a narrow stream of randomly spaced circles trailing down the length. The surface of the sculpture is mottled, parts of it already colored by the patina copper acquires as it ages.

"I really do, Edward. It has great movement, fantastic detail. I think it's really interesting and beautiful," I tell him. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah. I think it looks like rain… like Seattle," he says, glancing quickly at me then back at the sculpture. "I guess that's shallow, huh?"

"No, Edward. I think you're right," I agree, then giggle as I see the little plaque beside the sculpture, which I hadn't noticed before. "Look. It's called 'Falling Water'."

"I'm buying it," he announces, smiling down at me when I turn to face him. "Will you help me decide where to hang it?" I answer yes and then wait while Edward goes to pay for it and arrange delivery. When he comes back to where I'm standing, he takes my hand again without hesitation.

* * *

As we continue walking up the street, I start to feel more comfortable physically with him. We're still holding hands, but I step closer to him, walking with my shoulder against his arm as we continue strolling, talking. No other stores capture our attention enough for us to enter. I like this better anyway – just being with him. When he slows to a stop in front of a shop, I think maybe he wants to go in. He turns to face me, but makes no move toward the door of the shop so I turn to face him, too. He's still holding my hand and he lifts his other hand to my face, putting two fingers under my chin and tipping my head up slightly.

I feel my heart speed up as I shift my gaze from his eyes, to his mouth, then back to his eyes. As he leans down toward me, I let my eyes shut. I sense him getting closer, feel him exhale a soft breath against my lips. I raise my free hand to grip the side of his waist as I feel the same warmth, the same tingling sensation I feel every time he kisses me. I wait impatiently for him to settle his lips against mine.

"Edward? I thought that was you," a sweet, high-pitched female voice says from behind me. My eyes pop open just as Edward pulls his face away from mine to look over my shoulder. His face goes from confusion to surprise in an instant before finally lighting up.

"Renata?" he asks, his face breaking into a huge smile.

He steps around me – to her – and before I've even turned around to see who it is, she's wrapped her arms around his neck and is hugging him tightly and laughing. I can't see anything except a mop of curly, blonde hair. I hear the approximately two hundred metal bangle bracelets she's wearing clang together as she pats him on the back and then runs her hands through his hair.

I stand dumbfounded, watching them, listening to the parts of their whispered conversation that I can hear… snippets about business and looking good and something about Edward's hair that makes him laugh. Finally, they pull apart and he turns to look for me, perhaps remembering that he's on a freaking date and shouldn't be hugging another woman. He's never hugged me the way he was just hugging her. In fact, he's never hugged me at all – I've hugged him twice, but never like she just did… tightly, lingeringly. I keep my eyes trained on him, refusing to look at the huggee… the kiss-interruptor… the bangled biotch.

"Ballerina, this is Renata," he says with excited eyes and a wide smile. Like that statement explains anything. I don't have any freaking idea who Renata is. I arch an eyebrow at him, not amused… until I see his eyes go wide as he realizes that I. am. pissed. The frightened look that settles onto his face at that point is pretty funny.

His eyes plead with me as he steps back to me, grabbing my hand again and urging me forward a couple of steps. I finally allow myself to look at the other woman. Under the curly, frizzy, hair, I see she has a benevolent face… a benevolent, sixty-year-old face. She's wearing a red caftan with gold embroidery, several necklaces, including one large crystal, and the aforementioned multitude of gold bangles. She's smiling widely, expectantly, at me and I immediately feel like a fool. I glance apologetically at Edward before I return her smile.

"Renata, this is Bella. She moved into your old space," Edward announces as we shake hands. Well, I shake hands. She clasps my hand in between both of hers and studies my face intently before dropping her gaze down to my hand. Cradling it gently, she studies the back and then turns it palm-up, looking, frowning, twisting my hand a little in the murky light from the streetlamp. Finally, she lets go and smiles at me again.

"Lovely to meet you, Bella," she says. "Goodness, Edward. I can't believe this! You wandering by just as I happened to look out the window. Are you two in a hurry? I'd love for you to come in and see my new store."

Edward looks at me and I try to convey with my smile that it's okay with me to go in. Renata opens the door and Edward holds it as we walk inside. The store is dimly-lit with weak, overhead lighting and several scarf-covered lamps placed around the displays of candles, crystals, incense. In fact, some kind of incense is burning on the front counter – lavender, maybe? It smells good. Soft, soothing music plays in the background. We all talk at the front counter for a few minutes and then I leave the two of them to catch up while I look around. I don't know anything about what you use this kind of stuff for, but it's fun to look.

I stand on the backside of a large, round candle display, picking up different candles to test their scents. So far, vanilla orange is my favorite. I can't see Edward and Renata, but I hear the dulcet tones of their voices as they talk quietly. Suddenly, I hear Renata laugh loudly. "She's _actually_ a dancer?" she asks. I hear the low tone of Edward's voice, but not his answer, and then Renata laughs again.

"What's so funny?" Edward asks curtly, his voice raised slightly. Yeah, crystal lady. What exactly _is_ so funny? I stay hidden, fuming… listening.

"You don't remember? The day I moved out of the building, I brought you a bottle of wine...and we drank it," she says.

"I remember _that_. You got me drunk on rot-gut, homemade wine," Edward laughs. My lips curl up into a smile. I can tell by the tone of Edward's voice that he's very fond of this lady. He's using the same tone I've heard him use with his mom.

I hear Renata's laugh followed by the tinkling of her bracelets again. "_Delicious,_ rot-gut, homemade wine," she insists. "But that's not the point. I read your palm before we got too far gone."

I fight the urge to laugh out loud. No wonder she was studying my hand outside. Instantly, I know I'll have to bring Alice down here sometime to meet her – she loves this kind of stuff.

"Renata, you know I don't pay any attention to that shit," Edward replies, still sounding amused.

"Oh, really? You don't recall what I said about your aura?" she asks haughtily.

"You said it was blue," Edward replies reluctantly.

"Yes, a horrible, dull blue. I told you that you were too content, too selfish and narrow-minded," she says gently.

"Jesus, Renata, I'm starting to remember why I got drunk that night. You were being mean to me," Edward says with mock hurt.

"I was being honest …I was preparing you. Do you know what color your aura is now? It's a beautiful, vibrant blue… with just a hint of purple. You're finding your life balance," she pronounces proudly.

"I don't even like blue," Edward responds crossly.

"Darling, it doesn't matter what color you like, just what color you are. Anyway, do you remember what I said to you when I read the heart line on your hand?" she prods.

"No," he replies, but he sounds petulant, like maybe he really does remember, but won't admit it.

"I said that fate would come dancing into your life very soon and turn your world upside down," she trills. "I didn't know how literally true that was. I'm even better than I thought… and I already thought I was pretty damn good." Her melodious laughter follows her statement, and I quietly chuckle along with her.

"Renata, it's a good thing you're a beautiful woman, because you're fucking weird," Edward teases and Renata laughs loudly again.

"I'm going to get the three of us some tea," she says. I hear her footsteps walking toward the rear of the store and then Edward appears on the other side of the display where I'm standing, peeking around and smiling sheepishly at me.

"Hey," he says, coming around to where I'm standing. "Thanks for being cool with this. She's going to try to read your palm or some shit after she gives us tea. You don't have to let her."

I shrug, smiling up at him. "It's okay. She seems like a sweet lady," I answer, setting down the candle I've been holding since Renata first started talking about dancers.

"She is. I was sorry to see her move out when she did. But I wouldn't have met you if she hadn't," he says, turning to me and waiting until I face him, too. "And I'm really glad I met you." He steps toward me, closing the distance between us, gradually lowering his face toward mine as we stare into each other's eyes.

Just as I'm about to let my eyes slide shut, Renata's voice rings out again. "Tea time, kiddos," she sings. Edward huffs and closes his eyes, shaking his head as he smirks in reluctant amusement. I laugh and reach up to pat his cheek a couple of times. He chuckles, too, as he opens his eyes and covers the hand I still have on his face. Keeping his eyes on mine, he drags my hand to his lips and presses a lingering kiss against my palm, sending a jolt of heat down my spine and wiping the grin off my face. Smiling, he keeps his hand around mine as he guides me back to the front of the store, to the small table near the front counter.

Renata pours tea for us, explaining what flavor of herbal it is, but so many of my body parts are tingling from Edward's kiss that I don't absorb what she says. We sit down at the table and I sip my tea. Edward takes one drink, makes a face and asks for some bourbon to put in it. I think he just says it to amuse Renata and me, but he doesn't drink any more of it. As Edward predicted, she asks to read my palm a few minutes later and I hesitantly agree.

She smiles gleefully at me and takes a pair of red reading glasses from the case laying on top of the table, perching them on the end of her nose. Then she takes my hand gently and studies the back first, like she did earlier, before she turns it over and uses her fingers to gently trace the lines crossing my palm.

"You have a nice life line," she says. "You're an only child?" She looks up at me over the top of her glasses, her pale blue eyes searching mine. I nod and she smiles, but not smugly like I expect. Her smile seems more like a confirmation of something she was already thinking.

"You're independent… you don't like to be told what to do," she murmurs. Edward snickers quietly beside me and Renata's eyes slide toward him. "I guess Edward agrees with that assessment." She looks up at me again and winks, clearly amused, then traces along a different line on my palm when she lowers her eyes again.

"Your head line… see how long and straight it is? You're a realistic thinker, you're focused. You have three cuts across the line… indicating times of emotional distress. Two are shallow, but one is very deep," she says, still looking down. "Bella, have you lost someone important to you?" She looks up at me again, cutting into me with her inquisitive hazel eyes.

I swallow and feel tears prick my eyes. In the next instant, I feel Edward's hand on my back, moving gently up and down my spine a few times before coming to rest between my shoulder blades. "Yes," I reply quietly. "My dad… last year."

"Yes, yes, I see. You were very close to him," she pronounces, looking back down. She smiles as she traces yet another line on my hand. "Your heart line… see how it curves? You're passionate, a romantic – those with creative personalities such as yours usually are. Again, there are cuts across this line, showing heartbreak." She looks up at me with kind eyes, patting my forearm. "Unfortunately, none of us go unscathed through this life, do we?"

I smile as I shake my head. "No, I don't think so," I remark, then look over at Edward. I wonder if he's ever had his heart broken. He's looking at Renata, but turns and smiles at me when he notices me looking at him.

Across the table, Renata clears her throat softly until we both look back at her. "Now, your aura, my dear-," she begins.

"Oh, no. Oh, hell no, Renata," Edward grumbles, reaching forward onto the table to separate our hands. "I've shared her as long as I'm going to tonight."

He keeps his hand joined with mine and I see him squeeze Renata's with his other hand before he lets go.

"Well, all right, Edward. There's no need to be such a grump about it," she chides teasingly. "Bella, you come back any time and we'll finish your reading." She walks us to the door, stopping briefly at the counter to hand me the candle I was looking at earlier – the orange vanilla one. I don't know how she knew I liked it, but I accept it with a simple thank you and put it in my purse.

As she hugs me goodbye, I tell her that I'd like to bring Alice the next time I come. She agrees excitedly, whispering in my ear how happy she is that Edward and I came in tonight. Over my shoulder, she scolds Edward for not letting go of my hand long enough for me to even hug her properly. When I let go of Renata and look up at Edward, he shrugs apologetically, but still doesn't release my hand. He hugs her with one arm like I did, and we walk out of the store.

As we head back down the street, I wonder if he'll stop along the way and try to kiss me again. He doesn't. He catches me yawning and offers to take me home even though it's only ten o'clock. I agree, immediately afraid that I've bored him so much that he's ready to get rid of me early and go somewhere else.

When we get to his car, he opens the passenger door for me. He still doesn't try to kiss me even though I wait expectantly.

"I'm sorry I'm so tired," I say, looking up at him.

"I knew you would be, ballerina. It's all right. There'll be other nights," he answers, smiling down at me. That sets my heart fluttering again and I sink down into the seat. He shuts my door and walks around to get in beside me.

* * *

On the drive home, he shares a few funny stories about Renata, illustrating how sweet, yet slightly kooky, she is. He tells me to wait in the car so he can come around to open my door and he takes my hand again as we walk up the sidewalk, then up the stairs to my door. I unlock my door, but don't open it, turning around first to tell him goodnight.

"Thanks, Edward. I had a really good time," I say, leaning back against the door and looking up at him.

"Me, too. And I'm sorry about Renata," he says, cringing a bit.

I giggle. "It's okay. I don't believe in a lot of that stuff, but it didn't upset me."

He nods and I see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. "Are you going to be around the studio tomorrow?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Alice and Rose and I are going to hang out in the afternoon for a while," I say, trying not to think about what we'll be doing so I won't blush.

"Hang out with me after? I have to work tomorrow night, but you could keep me company," he says.

"Aren't there already enough girls sitting at the bar hoping you'll pay attention to them?" I tease.

He shrugs. "Never noticed," he says, but he's half-smiling. "Ballerina, I've never _asked_ anyone to hang out with me there before. And I noticed you before you ever set foot in my bar."

I smile widely at him, liking the fact that he's told me several times today that I'm different for him. I inhale shakily and nod. Then I realize that he's said several sweet things to me today and I really haven't reciprocated, haven't said anything that lets him know how I feel about him. "I'd like to hang out with you tomorrow night," I say, knowing it's inadequate in comparison to what he's said, but unable to think clearly enough to say anything else.

He steps toward me, sliding one of his hands along the side of my neck and around to the back to dig into the hair above the nape of my neck. Instinctively, I raise my hand to grasp the bicep of his other arm, feeling it flex beneath my fingers as he bends his elbow and raises that hand to cradle my upper arm. He's smiling as he bends his head down to mine. "I'm not stopping this time… I don't care who the hell starts talking to us," he says quietly.

He presses his lips to mine gently several times, waiting until I open my lips to open his, too. I wrap my free arm around his back just above the waist of his jeans as he slides his tongue along mine, letting my fingers rove up and down the indentation of his spine. We share several soft kisses before he pulls back and we both open our eyes. We stare intently at each other for a moment and then Edward leans toward me again, sliding his eyes closed. I keep mine open for a minute, looking at him, even though it feels weird to kiss with them open. When he groans quietly into my mouth, I finally shut my eyes, using the arm I have around Edward's waist to pull him closer. He lets go of my arm to slip that arm around my waist, pulling my body closer to his, too, moving his lips more urgently against mine. He pulls his mouth away after a moment and rests his forehead against mine as both of us catch our breath.

A minute later, he straightens up, wrapping his arms around my shoulders to pull me to his chest, kissing the top of my head. He then steps away reluctantly, looking down at me with my favorite lop-sided grin.

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I say, opening my door and stepping inside my apartment. I turn around to see his response.

"Yeah. Night, ballerina," he says, leaning in to kiss me once more quickly.

"Night, Edward," I reply, shutting the door, then watching him walk away through the peephole. I set my purse down on the chair beside the door. I take my jacket off and toss it down, too. Then I butt-dance my way to my bedroom, smiling happily the whole way.

When I fall into bed several minutes later, I'm still smiling. When I wake up in the middle of the night and turn over, I'm still smiling. And when I get up in the morning and go into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I look in the mirror ….yep, still smiling.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

**I know it's been a long time...I'm sorry. I never think it will take me as long as it does. But this is a pretty lengthy chap, so hopefully it's a good trade. ;)**

**I owned my 40th birthday - and had 80 people over to celebrate. My brother said he didn't know that many people liked me. They don't. They came for the free booze.**

**I own a husband who's traveling a lot the next few weeks...yay! I mean, darn! Love him but he made two out of three children cry at freaking bedtime tonight... I got him back by telling him that when the drama queen begins to menstruate (soon), she and I will likely be on the same cycle. I evil laughed my way from the room after watching the color drain from his face. Then later I went back in and talked and talked and talked to him because really, that's more punishment than not speaking to him (which he sometimes doesn't even notice).**

**My mother informed the drama queen that she is allowed to punch/knee/kick any boy in the groin who makes her mad. The entire male population of her middle school is now in danger. I expect she'll be suspended by third hour tomorrow after leaving a trail of hunched-over twelve year-old jerks in the hallway.**

**Thank you all for the reviews and favorites and alerts. Love getting them! **

**A thousand thanks to my friend Windgirl810 who is generous beyond words with her time and talent. :) I'm not even sure how many versions of this she was forced to read. Love you!**

**All mistakes are me, me, me. I can't stop tweaking. **

**Thanks for reading & please review...**

**

* * *

**

EPOV

Saturday morning dawns a little gray, a little misty. But I'm in a great fucking mood as I pull into the bar's parking lot. I'm the first car here – Bella's not next door yet. I look over my shoulder as I unlock the door to the bar, hoping she's driving in, but her side of the lot is still empty – no big red truck in sight. I wait a few more seconds, then finally open the door and walk inside the Full Moon.

After turning on the lights inside, I grab my laptop and last night's receipts from my office and sit down at the bar. Fifteen minutes later, I hear the side door open followed by Emmett's baritone voice.

"Honey, I'm home," he calls jovially.

I answer him, but don't look up from my laptop as I get the cash deposit ready to go to the bank. Between the cash and the credit card receipts, the bar had a really good night last night. And today should be packed for the Washington football game.

Emmett is standing in front of me, drumming his fingers impatiently on the bar top. Jesus. He's been hanging around my sister too much. Her impatient habits are rubbing off on him.

"What the fuck do you want, Emmett?" I ask. I try to sound irritable, but my lips turn up into a smirk against my will. He chuckles lightly.

"So… how was your evening with Tiny Dancer?" he asks. I knew that was what he wanted – I just don't know how to answer him. Emmett's been my best friend for five years – we talk about almost everything. We've certainly talked about women over the years and God knows I've heard way too much about his relationship with Rose. He's probably heard too much about my non-relationships with the random women I've screwed. But I don't want to talk about Bella with him – not yet.

"Good," I answer aloofly. He starts cackling like a damn hyena.

"Dude, you were whistling when I came in…. I think it was better than 'good'," he says between guffaws. I was whistling? I didn't even realize it.

I shrug and decide to tell him about seeing Renata to try and deflect all the date talk. He plays along for a few minutes, smirking at me as I talk a little too enthusiastically about Renata's store, what she's been up to, how she looks. He's waiting me out, I can tell.

"What?" I ask when I've run out of Renata material and look up to find Emmett still staring at me. I zip the deposit bag and shut my laptop, then get up and walk around the end of the bar. I start stacking the clean glasses back on the shelf since Emmett has clearly decided not to do any of the fucking work I pay him for this morning.

"Nothing. That's great. I'm glad Renata's doing well," he says slowly. I turn around to find him staring at me, studying me. I raise one eyebrow at him and gesture with my hand for him to get on with it… I know he's got more to say. "Did you take Tiny something like I told you to?" he queries.

Yep, there it is. Jesus Christ. Between Emmett and Esme yesterday, I got so many suggestions on what to do for Bella that my fucking head was spinning. I know they were trying to help, but Emmett was right a few weeks ago when he said that if I really liked Bella, I'd start wanting to do stuff for her on my own. That's how I felt yesterday – like if I did what Emmett or my mom told me, it wouldn't be about Bella and _me_. So I came up with all of it on my own. I mean, I got ideas from them, but I chose the restaurant, I chose to walk around the shops with her and just talk to her.

"Yeah," I say and then turn my back on him, checking the bottles on the back bar to make sure we're set for the day. I pull out the ones that are almost empty.

"What did you take her?" he asks. He's such a nosy motherfucker.

"Emmett, just drop it, okay?" I say curtly as I knock two bottles over. I grab them quickly and set them back upright before they can bang into any others and cause all the bottles to topple, one after the other, like liquor-filled, glass dominoes.

"Why are you so jumpy? You didn't take her roses or something else cliché did you? I told you not to do that shit," he grouses. Correction: He's a grouchy, bossy, nosy motherfucker.

"I didn't take her roses," I grumble, only answering because Emmett doesn't really stop once he's focused on a question like this. He'll only get more annoying.

Grudgingly, I admit to making her a CD of punk songs and tell him we listened to it in the car last night. In fact, I forgot to give it back to her when I took her home so I brought it in with me this morning. It's the perfect excuse to go over and see her later this morning. Emmett hmms and chuckles behind me, but doesn't give me nearly as much shit as I expect. He offers to run the deposit to the bank for me while I finish setting up the bar.

While he's gone, I think about Bella, about last night. It's been a long time since I've been on a date, but I think it went pretty well. I was nervous as hell when I picked her up – so nervous that I forgot to tell her how great she looked. I always think she looks hot, but it was different when I knew she'd dressed for _me_. And the pants she wore last night – Jesus, I didn't think her ass could look better than it does in those little shorts she runs around in at her studio, but… oh, crap. I shouldn't be thinking about this shit first thing in the morning. Makes for a long damn day.

Besides, it's not just about the way she looks. I like talking to her, too. I liked walking around the cool, artsy shops with her. We went to a lot of the same ones my mom dragged me to last year when she was trying to get me to pick out stuff for my condo, but I was there under protest then and sort of enjoyed my mom's exasperation when I wouldn't choose anything.

Last night, though, I impulsively bought a wall sculpture after Bella asked me why I didn't have anything on my walls. I liked the sculpture immediately when I first saw it. It reminded me of rain… it reminded me of Thursday night when Bella was riding home with me and she pointed out how pretty all the street lights looked in the rain. I kept wandering back to that sculpture at the gallery, noting how under the spotlight, the copper shimmered like the street did Thursday night. Smiling, I wonder if I'll think of her every time I look at it on my wall… think of how she's changed the way I look at a lot of things.

Bella has turned my world upside down, just like Renata said – although I would never cop to that shit with Renata. Jesus, she's already relentless in her palm-reading and colored-aura crap. The weird thing is though, I don't really mind that Bella's turned everything upside down for me. I like her… and I want her, for sure – but even more than that, I like the idea of knowing her inside and out, of her knowing me that way. I like the thought of being able to kiss her whenever I want or call her just to say hi. I think I might even like to follow her around the fucking mall and carry her bags for her.

"Tiny just got here, E," Emmett calls as he walks back in from the bank. Damn, I was so preoccupied thinking about her that I forgot to watch for her. I chuckle lightly at my own stupidity. "Who's the guy going inside with her?"

"Probably Seth," I answer, shrugging one shoulder as I turn to look at Em. She told me last night that Seth's leaving for L.A. soon and she's been trying to learn all she can from him before he goes.

"Dude, I know what Seth looks like," Emmett replies. "That ain't Seth."

I walk to the window to stand next to him and look out at the parking lot. No one's outside – I guess Bella and the guy are already inside her studio, but I recognize the car parked next to her truck because I saw it once before… and the reaction I have now is the same as the one I had that night. My feet feel like they're glued to the floor – I can't move away even though I want to. My stomach starts twisting into knots. I swallow uncomfortably and finally manage to turn away and walk back behind the bar.

It's Tyler. The guy she likes. The guy she said she'd probably go out with. But I didn't think she'd do it the morning after _we_ went out… right fucking in front of me.

What the hell kind of game is she playing? Should I go over there now? Confront her?

Getting more pissed by the second, I head back to the kitchen to take out my anger on the lemons and limes that need to be cut for the day. As I cut the limes, I think back on yesterday morning – everything that happened. It felt like Bella and I were really moving forward – we had fun eating lunch together at her studio. I definitely liked looking at her in that little strappy top, watching as the slight sheen of sweat on her chest dried – watching the lean muscles of her legs in those tiny fucking shorts before she covered them up. We talked and laughed the whole time we ate lunch. I've never talked to a woman before and listened to every fucking thing she said… been interested in every fucking thing she said.

Using the knife blade, I scoop some of the cut lime wedges into the garnish station and dump the rest into the container for the fridge. After wiping down the cutting board, I start on the lemons and go back to thinking about Bella.

When I kissed her yesterday morning, she kissed me back – hell, she _pulled_ me back to her when I first backed away. And when I finally got to kiss her again at the end of the date, it felt perfect. I mean, we'd kissed before, but not that way. Not sober and happy and knowing each other better. At least that was how it felt for me. She never said how she felt.

Jesus, I'm a fucking idiot! She didn't ever say she felt the same. I just assumed she did. Fuck. How did I let this happen to myself? How did I end up liking one girl this much? I never should have tried to change. I should have continued being myself – the asshole who sleeps around and doesn't give a fuck about any one particular girl. I knew I was better off without having to deal with this crap. I've known it for the last six years. Why the hell did I let one tiny ballerina get so far under my skin that I tried to change who I am?

I'm not cut out for this relationship shit. I'm out. She's not that great anyway.

Finished with the lemons, I put the extras in the fridge and finish filling the garnish station with cherries and olives, then carry it back out to the bar. I set it down on the bar and spy the CD I made for Bella laying nearby. Irritated, I pick it up and toss it onto the back bar. Christ, she was so damn cute last night asking all kinds of questions about the music, about the bands. Well, not _that_ cute… she's not _that_ special. I'm done with this crap.

Ill-tempered, I finish checking and re-stocking all the liquor bottles for the day. Emmett chatters at me almost nonstop – I'm sure he knows I'm annoyed. He tells me that Tanya did something to the cash register last night – coincidentally right after Rose told her why I took the night off – and it's not working right. Only Tanya would try to retaliate against me by screwing up the pre-set functions on the cash register.

Just after I've started trying to reprogram it, I hear the side door of the bar open and automatically turn my head to see who's coming in. And there she is – the ballerina – smiling at me. Jesus, she looks incredible. I turn back around, messing with the cash register instead of speaking to her.

"Hi, Edward," she says from behind me, apparently not understanding that I saw her and didn't speak to her on purpose.

"Yeah, hey," I answer, not turning around.

Emmett takes over then, talking animatedly to her… trying to distract her from the fact that I'm acting like a dick. I concentrate on what I'm doing with the register, reprogramming all the tax functions and tab keys, completely tuning Emmett and Bella out. I'm aware that they're still talking; I hear the beverage gun kick on and assume he's fixing her a Diet Coke. I barely catch myself before I turn around to remind him to put a lemon in it for her. Luckily I remember that I'm done with her just in the nick of time and manage to keep my fucking mouth shut for once.

"Edward?" I hear her ask hesitantly a minute later.

I look over my shoulder to see that Emmett is gone. Totally missed that. "What, Bella?" I ask coolly.

I see her flinch and immediately feel like an asshole. I turn all the way around and exhale loudly, leaning against the back bar to look at her and crossing my arms over my chest. Our eyes meet for a split second before she drops her gaze to stare at the bar top.

"Nevermind. I'd better get going," she mumbles as her cheeks turn pink. I watch as she carefully lays two dollars on the bar next to her untouched soda – without lemon – and stands up. She doesn't raise her eyes to mine as she turns to walk out the side door. I put my elbows on the front bar and lean down to watch her go. I feel like shit, but I don't stop her.

As soon as the door shuts, I hear Emmett shuffle up behind me.

"You are the biggest dumbshit, asshole I've ever known," Emmett growls.

"No doubt," I agree, still watching as she crosses the parking lot and disappears inside her building.

"What's your fucking problem, man? She came over here to see you," he asserts, walking around the front of the bar to look at me.

"After she was with that other guy at her studio," I huff.

"Fuck, Edward. Were you even listening when I was talking to her? She said he came here to ask her out and she said no… and when she told me that, she was looking at _you_," Emmett says loudly, right in my face. "And you know how you reacted? You continued slamming shit around back there, acting like you couldn't be bothered to give a shit."

Oh, hell. Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. Mouth gaping, I lower my eyes and exhale in a puff of expletive-laden air, hissing out the words I was just thinking. When I look back up at Emmett, he's glaring at me like he wants to hit me, but I don't think he will… yet. He nods his head at me soberly and waits for me to speak.

"Um, Em," I begin.

"Go, jackass. I'll wait for the deliveries," he says, clearly irritated with me. "But, seriously, quit fucking up with her." I nod before grabbing her CD and practically running out the side door and across the parking lot.

Like yesterday, she doesn't answer the studio door when I knock. Like yesterday, it's unlocked. I've really got to talk to her about that shit. I open the door, mentally noting how squeaky the hinge is and resolving to ask her if she wants me to fix that. Music is coming from one of the dance rooms – not the one she was in yesterday, the other one. It's a haunting song; a slow, sad melody sung by a woman, accompanied by a piano.

I peek around the doorway of the room, trying to stay hidden, watching her dance. As I watch, she turns twelve times without stopping, then moves sideways across the floor. She jumps up, her vertical putting all the guys I play pickup ball with to shame. While she jumps, she puts one leg out straight in front of her and the other behind so it kind of looks like she's doing the splits in mid-air. When she lands, she takes a step and jumps again. Then again, bending her back leg up toward her head the third time. She's amazing.

I don't realize I'm speaking until I hear myself. "Jesus, ballerina, you're fucking fantastic. Why don't you do this professionally?" I ask.

She stops dancing and turns to look at me. I smile slightly at her as I move to stand fully in the doorway. She glares back at me. "I do," she replies icily. "I teach… that's a profession."

"I know that," I say hastily, scrambling to salvage all the progress I made yesterday and pissed away this morning. "I mean, why aren't you _performing_ professionally? Like with the fucking New York City Ballet or some shit?" I should probably tone down the cussing.

She shrugs one shoulder and scrunches her face up in disagreement before she answers me. "I'm not _that_ good. I did have an audition scheduled once with the Pacific Northwest Ballet traveling company, but I hurt my knee right before…tore my meniscus and had to have surgery. I wasn't healed enough for the audition and then everything happened with my dad," she says, walking over to turn off the music, plunging the room into silence.

"Maybe you could audition now," I offer, my voice echoing hollowly in the empty room.

She shakes her head, but doesn't look at me. "I'm too out of practice. I was training at least thirty-five hours a week back then," she says, walking to the front middle of the room. She stands in front of the mirror and pulls out the stretchy thing holding her hair up, sending it tumbling in waves down her back. Then she bends over at the waist – flashing her sweet ass at me in those tiny fucking shorts she wears – and flips her hair forward to gather it together with her hands. I should look away, but damn... the legs, the ass, the curve of her back, the long dark hair hanging down. I blow out a quiet breath as I study her… my hands aching to touch her, my brain hoping I haven't completely blown my chance with her.

She stands back up to face the mirror, using both of her hands to twist her hair around complicatedly as she continues talking. "Besides, it's not my dream anymore… the endless rehearsals, the nonstop travel, sleeping with an ice pack on my knee. None of it appeals to me like it used to. I like this. I like the kids." She's done with her hair – it ends up looking pretty much like it did before she pulled it down, so I'm not sure what she went through all that for. She turns around, putting her hands flat against the small of her back and then leaning against the mirror.

Unsure what to say, I simply nod at her when her eyes finally meet mine. The knots in my stomach twist again when I see that there's no warmth in her chocolate eyes right now... they're wary, guarded – angry, but without the fire I've witnessed before. None of the normal ballerina sparkle is reflected back at me. She sighs. "What do you want, Edward?"

_You. _

It's the only answer that pops into my head. I wonder if I can say that. Probably not right now. She looks pretty mad.

"Uh, I brought your CD," I say instead, holding up the jewel case to prove it.

"I came to get it earlier. You wouldn't talk to me," she says. The look on her face is defiant, but I can tell I hurt her feelings.

"I'm sorry, ballerina," I say sincerely. It's probably the first time I've said it to a girl and actually meant it in six years. "I saw… I recognized… Taylor's car. I got pissed."

As I predicted, she smiles a little when I say the wrong name, but she doesn't correct me like she did last time.

She sighs loudly again and looks down, shaking her head. "I didn't know he was coming by. Even if I did, what's the big deal, Edward? You and I have been on one date. We haven't even discussed if we're going to date other people... or each other for that matter."

As soon as she smiled, I started walking slowly toward her. So by the time she's done talking, I'm standing just a couple of feet in front of her. She raises her head back up and looks at me, meeting my gaze with her own.

"Do you want to discuss it?" I ask hopefully, anxious to make my case.

She shakes her head. "Not right now."

She drops her gaze to the ground again and my eyes follow. Her feet are bare except for some black fabric thing wrapped around the balls of both feet. Her toenails are painted red.

"Don't look at my feet. They're destroyed from so many years of dancing," she says, quickly pulling one over the top of the other.

"I like your feet," I say, shrugging. It's the truth. I haven't seen any body part of hers that I don't like. And I'm fairly sure that the ones I haven't seen yet will become some of my favorites if she ever lets me see them... touch them. This is not a good train of thought. I need to get back to what's going on now.

I raise my eyes back up her body. She's moved her hands from behind her back and has them crossed in front of her chest now, pushing her tits together. Uh oh. This could be a test. I rush my gaze past them, to look at her face again.

"I really am sorry," I say earnestly, looking into her eyes.

"I heard you," she says, her face still neutral, but it seems more relaxed than before.

"You're hanging out here today?" I ask. I'd like to ask if she's still coming over later. I probably shouldn't press my luck right now though.

She nods. "I have some cleaning to do. And my girls are coming," she says, smiling when she talks about Alice and Rosalie. Fuck. I hope Emmett doesn't tell Rose what I did this morning. She'll probably kick my ass for real.

"Okay. Well, I should go," I say, then pause to see if she'll ask me to stay. She doesn't. But she does hold her hand out for the CD. I think that's as good a sign as I'm going to get for now.

I hold it out toward her, but don't let go when she takes it, pulling it back toward me playfully when she tries to wrench it away from me.

Finally, she breaks into a real smile. "Let go!" she says, trying not to laugh.

I laugh as I let it go. "All right. I'll see you later," I say, feeling better as I turn to leave the room. "Hey, Bella. You probably shouldn't leave your door unlocked when you're here by yourself. You never know who will walk in."

"Clearly. It's been you two days in a row," she deadpans, then laughs at me when I quickly turn around to see if she's serious. Oddly, it makes me feel better that she's giving me shit again – that, at least, is normal. "I know. I'm bad about it during the day. I'll lock it after you leave."

She follows me to the door, but doesn't mention seeing me later, only saying goodbye and then shutting and locking the door behind me.

When I walk back into the bar, a few people have arrived for lunch... and Rosalie is sitting at the bar. She looks over at me, tilting her head, pursing her lips and cocking one eyebrow. Shit.

"You are a fucking idiot," she says quietly when I get close enough.

"Yep," I confirm, not even trying to deny it. I look at Em standing across the bar from me, smiling. "You have a big fucking mouth."

"Yep," he laughs, then shrugs one shoulder. "Tiny would have told her anyway. I thought it would be better if she understood your misguided perspective instead of only hearing Tiny's version." He's probably right.

"I apologized," I say. "She's still pissed." Rose huffs at me. "I know I fucked up, Rose, all right?"

"You're buying us lunch," she says, holding up the ticket with the order to go that must be for her, Bella and Alice. I nod, pulling a couple of bills from my front pocket and handing them to Emmett.

"You want to deliver it?" she asks quietly while Em's at the cash register getting my change. She swivels her stool sideways to look up at me, her blue eyes more sympathetic than I thought they would be.

"No. I've probably worn out my welcome for now. You girls have fun and I'll try again later with her," I say softly. "Thanks though."

"I'll try not to badmouth you," she says, trying to hold her smile back, but the corners of her mouth turn up slightly.

"Don't overexert yourself," I say sarcastically.

"She'll come around. She'll probably even think it's cute how you were all jealous... eventually," she says, winking up at me. "I wouldn't bring that up yet though. Keep groveling for now."

"Yes, Obi Wan," I retort, tugging playfully on her ponytail as I walk away to the kitchen. "I'll get the cooks started on your food."

* * *

BPOV

After Edward leaves, I go back into the studio and pull up the playlist with the songs that I think are sexy. I hit play, then start to dance a little to keep my muscles warmed up and to try some things out for Rose. As I watch in the mirror, noting what looks good and what doesn't, I let my mind wander. Of course, left on its own, my brain goes straight to Edward.

Yesterday seemed like a dream. Everything, from waking up hung over in Edward's bed to the perfect kiss at the end of the night, seemed designed for my happiness. And boy, was I happy.

It even carried over to today. I woke up happy, showered and dressed happy, drove over here happy. When I got out of my truck, I was even happy… until Tyler Crowley pulled into the parking lot behind me. Then I woke up from the dream and the nightmare began.

He called me Thursday when I was riding back from Forks with Jake and Jared. I asked if I could call him back, but then I got drunk instead. Yesterday, I didn't even think to call him back... I didn't think of him this morning either.

He pulled up beside me and met me at the front of my truck, smiling. I smiled back, but felt a little sick to my stomach at the thought of having to tell him in person that I'm dating someone else now.

After we came in the studio, I was gentle but honest with him, and he seemed to understand, said there were no hard feelings. He even told me not to delete his number and to call if things didn't work out with the other guy. I felt terrible – he really is a nice guy. But as he hugged me goodbye before he left, I knew for sure that he wouldn't stand a chance with me as long as Edward's around. There was nothing exciting about Tyler's embrace – no tingly feeling spreading across my skin, no racing heart, no impulse to kiss him. I know I made the right decision.

As soon as he left, I walked over to the Full Moon to see Edward and to get the CD I left in his car last night. He was cold and distant when I went in though, so I was fairly sure that he saw Tyler here. I made a point of telling Emmett – loudly – that I told Tyler I was dating someone, but that didn't seem to make a difference to Edward. Hurt, I got the hell out of there as soon as I could and escaped into dance.

Now I fall to my knees in front of the mirror, dragging my hands up my inner thighs as I push my knees out to the side. That's a pretty hot move. I think Rose will like that. As I raise onto my knees and shift my hips from side to side, my mind drifts back to Edward... to Edward watching me dance this morning… to dancing for Edward like this sometime... to watching Edward as he watches me.

I wonder if he'd like it. Jeez, what am I thinking? He's a guy. Of course he'd like it. But it would have to be about _me,_ not about just a random lap dance. I wonder what he looks like – if his eyes get darker or brighter when he's... you know... close. I wonder if he keeps his eyes open or if he lets them slide closed. I wonder if I'll ever get any of this information firsthand.

Lost in thought, I startle when I hear Alice's voice in the hallway – I didn't even hear her unlock the door and come in.

"Mi piace un sacco! Bellisima!," she says. Great. She's practicing her Italian on me again and I have no idea what she's saying. She's been doing this periodically since her Italian honeymoon. "Do that again – it looked really good."

"What did I do?" I ask, frowning. I wasn't paying a lot of attention to what I was doing the last couple of minutes.

"With the pole. Good God, Bella. You could have a whole other career at night, if you get my meaning," she teases, winking at me when our eyes meet in the mirror.

I roll my eyes, then realize that I'm hanging onto the steel support pole at the front of the room. It has driven me crazy all year when I'm teaching because I always have to go around it. Oh my God, was I pole dancing and not even paying attention? I think back...yes, I was. Pole dancing and thinking about Edward.

"I was just messing around. Rose doesn't want to do that anyway," I mutter, feeling embarrassed as I turn around to face Alice. I frown and tilt my head slightly to the side when I notice what she's wearing… a black patent trench coat and lucite high heels – stripper heels. Embarrassment flees in the face of astonishment. Stunned into silence, I can only stare, wide-eyed.

"Maybe she doesn't, but you totally should. _Totally_," she replies as she walks into the room. Well, she doesn't really walk, she stalks… seductively. With each step, her feet seem to be landing on an invisible center line, nearly crossing her legs and making her hips swing dramatically from side to side. She stops in the middle of the room, widens her stance, shifts her weight back and forth a few times, then leaves her weight on her right leg, pushing that hip out to the side slightly. Slowly, she begins loosening the knot on the trench coat belt and sliding the noisy fabric apart.

Once the belt is unfastened, she pulls the coat open and puts her hands inside, resting her hands on her hips and shifting her weight to the other side. I feel my mouth gape when I see what she's wearing underneath – a black, lacy, see-through nightgown that barely covers her… anything. After pausing for a moment, she takes the coat off, letting it slide to the floor behind her, then continues her advance toward the front of the room.

"God, it's times like this I really wish I had long hair. This is the perfect place for a head flip… remember that for Rose, k?" she asks nonchalantly, stopping in front of the mirror and circling her hips slowly.

Finally, I snap my jaw shut and close my eyes momentarily, shaking my head quickly and hoping that this whole scene will make more sense when I reopen them. Hesitantly, I squint one eye and then the other back open to see Alice with her back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder at herself in the mirror as she crouches down to the floor and glides her hand up the back of her leg slowly as she stands again.

When she sees me looking at her, she straightens all the way up, turns toward me and smiles.

"Alice, what the hell are you wearing?" I croak.

"A nightie. What the hell are you wearing?" she retorts. I look down at my booty shorts and cami.

"Dance clothes," I answer. "We're _dancing_ today, not sleeping."

"Bella," she chides, "this kind of nightie is _not_ for sleeping."

Embarrassed again, both at Alice's lack of clothing and my apparent lack of nightie knowledge, I walk to the iPod dock.

"You don't like my nightie, B?" she calls from behind me, laughing.

"I just don't see why you're wearing it for Rose and me," I say, turning the music off.

"Because I always dress for success… and believe me, this little number was very successful when I wore it in Italy. I got Jasper to do all kinds of things, like -," she trills.

"I don't wanna know," I yell, putting my hands over my ears. Alice is laughing behind me and I know she's just giving me a hard time, but right now I really don't want to hear about all the unbelievable sex she and Jasper have. I've listened to every chapter of that epic novel for years, while my own sex life has been a short story, a novella of nothing. Empty white pages… except for four short, poorly constructed sentences.

"Okay, all right, I'll stop. You know I'm just messing with you," she says, walking toward me.

"Alice, I cannot hug you when you're wearing that," I say, turning around and holding my hands up as she approaches.

"Oh, God, you prude! We lived together for two years! Plus, I'm wearing a bra and booty shorts underneath instead of the thong I wear for Jasper," she says with exasperation, wrapping her arms around me anyway.

She's so open with her body and her sexuality. I wish I was more like that, but I grew up with just my dad. He always wanted me covered head to toe. I'm comfortable in revealing dance clothes because I've practically lived in them since I was a kid, but real clothes that are too sexy scare me… make me feel too exposed.

"So, how was the date?" She asks, looking at me expectantly as she backs away from me and starts stretching, warming up.

"Good," I answer, nodding minutely.

"That's it? Good?" she asks.

"For now. I'll tell you more later. Let's get this dance done for Rose," I answer. She nods in agreement and I start the first song on Rose's requested playlist.

"I… love to love you, baby," Alice sings along breathily. Of course she would know all the words. "Do it to me again and again."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and we spend the next twenty minutes choreographing like we always do – sharing ideas, showing each other different moves. We've never choreographed anything like this though. It's usually tap for seven year olds or jazz for twelve year olds. Not modern erotic expression for twenty-seven year olds.

We settle on a simple, yet seductive, routine and practice it several times to the first two songs on Rose's playlist. Alice keeps watching me in the mirror, lips pursed and drawn to one side. I know that look. She's got something to say, but hasn't decided how to say it yet.

"Spit it out, short stuff," I say, turning toward her with my hands on my hips.

"You're too stiff, B," Alice says gently, shrugging one shoulder at me and grimacing like it's painful for her to offer constructive criticism. "You're technically superior, as usual. But you need to really thrust your hips – a little less control, a little more lust." I feel my face getting red and I try to bat her away when she stands behind me with her hands on my hips and pushes my hips forward forcefully.

"Jesus, Alice. This is like a scene from a really bad porno version of Dirty Dancing," I complain, but suddenly I feel it – I feel my hips loosen and move forward _that_ way… like scooping forward.

"That's it!" Alice says excitedly. "Can you feel the difference? It's like with sex… it's not always about pushing against him… sometimes it's about _pulling_ him in."

"I'm gonna need a drink if you're going to keep talking about this," I mutter, successfully getting away from her at last.

"Drawing him in and making him yours the same way he makes you his," she continues, ignoring me completely. Her eyes are focused on a spot to her left and she's smiling softly. She sighs and shifts her gaze back to me. "And then other times you just need a hard, fast fuck."

"Alice!" I exclaim.

She laughs. "What? It's true. And in a good relationship, there's room for both."

Since neither of us resets the iPod back to the first song, it rolls to the third one, which we haven't listened to yet. Alice straight up squeals, even though she knows it drives me crazy, and starts dancing and singing all over again.

"She was a fast machine. She kept her motor clean. She was the best damn woman that I'd ever seen," she sings, grabbing me by the wrist to dance – well, really jump around – with her. Laughing, I join in, singing along, too. Halfway through the song, I turn to Alice.

"Shouldn't we be choreographing something to this for Rose?" I say loudly.

"Nah. They'll definitely be screwing by the time this song comes on," she answers, then laughs as I cover my face with my hands so she can't see me blushing again.

When the song is over, Alice turns down the stereo volume just in time for us to hear the creak as the studio's side door opens.

"It's the lunch lady," Rosalie calls out with a laugh. "I'm locking this door, k? I don't want either of those fools next door walking in on us."

A few minutes later, we're settled on the floor eating buffalo wings and fries. Rose also brought one huge salad and three forks which sit in the middle of our makeshift triangle. There's something I really like about sharing this food with my two good friends – even though Alice scarfed all the mushrooms and croutons from the salad and Rose is completely hogging the bleu cheese dressing for the wings.

They harass me about the date, so I give some details. I keep the hand-holding and kissing to myself, for now. If Edward and I continue to date and end up in a relationship, I'm sure I'll share more with my friends. But for now, it feels too new, too important to me to share in a gossip session.

Rose and Alice both seem to enjoy the story about Renata and Rose chimes in with some of the wacky things Renata did when her store was in this building. Some of them are the same things Edward told me last night, but I don't share that either.

Finally, we're full of food and we've laughed away an hour of our work time. While I clean up the lunch mess, Rose peels off her hoody – revealing that she's wearing a simple tank top with her black exercise pants, thank goodness – and Alice leads her through a short warm-up. Then we get started on her... dance.

We line up in front of the mirror – Alice in the middle and slightly in front of Rose and me. Alice and I show Rose a few simple moves, from just shifting her hips back and forth or in a circle, to leaning forward with her back arched, butt out behind, boobs out in front.

"This is the stuff you want to do first, Rosalie," Alice explains. "Get him going before you show him all the goods. Trust me… this will work." She winks at Rose in the mirror.

"Alice Whitlock, have you been lap dancing your husband?" Rose asks with a laugh.

A question like that would give me a coronary, but Alice doesn't miss a beat of the dance as she answers. "Absolutely. _One_ of us had to know what she was talking about today," she replies, then slides her eyes to meet mine in the mirror.

As I feel my face heating up yet again, Alice takes pity on me and draws the attention back to herself.

"Ladies, the lap dance booty. Allow me to demonstrate," Alice says. She takes two steps forward, moving farther in front of us. Then she simultaneously smacks the front of her thighs with her hands and sticks her butt out toward us as she bends forward slightly. She circles her hips from one side to the other slowly. Yeah, guys would like that.

Rosalie catches on quickly and before long, she's learned the whole routine, complete with a few hair flips, which Alice insists upon. Alice drags a folding chair from the corner and sits in it at the front of the room. Rose practices in front of her and as I watch, I'm a little envious of Rose's body. She's tall and curvy – and she has boobs. Not huge, get-in-your-way boobs, just regular, good boobs. My boobs are small. Even tiny Alice has bigger boobs than I do. Hell. Thirteen year-olds have bigger boobs than I do.

I step forward and show Rose how to twist side to side with her legs together to get down to the floor, then get on her knees like I was earlier this afternoon.

"And if you get closer to him before you do that, you can do a little somethin'-somethin' while you're down there… you know… they _all_ like that," Alice says, nodding from her chair. She wiggles her eyebrows up and down and grins. "Happy birthday to Emmett."

They both laugh knowingly while I try to ignore them. I knew I should have done a couple of shots before we started this today. Alice and Rose are much more comfortable talking about sex than I am… maybe because they both have it regularly and know what they're talking about.

"Bella," Rose says, stepping toward me and putting an arm around my shoulders, "quit being so uptight about this. You _really_ need to get laid." I'm so mortified that my eyes slide shut and I shake my head back and forth. "I'm really sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I mutter as I open my eyes, confused about why Rose would be sorry. Maybe sorry for saying something that made me uncomfortable.

"Oh, nothing… nothing," she says, smirking at me. I frown back. "Come on, let's finish. I have to go soon. Can we practice again next weekend?" She pulls on my arm, moving me back to the center of the room next to her and we go through the whole dance a couple of times, then agree to practice again next Saturday. Rosalie hugs both Alice and me excitedly and thanks us profusely before she leaves.

Once she's gone, Alice and I sit on the floor of the studio rehydrating and talking. I tell her a little more about the date... I tell her how perfect everything was… how it all fell apart this morning.

"So he's just as jealous and good at jumping to conclusions as you are, huh?" Alice asks.

"What?"

"You just told me five minutes ago how you got all jealous when he hugged Renata last night. He got all jealous this morning when he saw Tyler's car here. You two are like the frickin' jealous Wonder Twins…wait, scratch that. That would make you two incestuous," she finishes with a giggle.

I smile back at her, but I feel sick to my stomach. She's right. Just like the day I got pissed at him for checking me out the way I was checking him out, I'm the world's biggest hypocrite.

"Oh, God. I need to go talk to him," I mutter, starting to get up.

Alice grabs hold of my arm, keeping me in place. "Hold on there, B," she says sternly. "You need to be straight on what you're going to tell him before you go running over there. Also, let him twist in the wind just a little longer… let him wonder if you're still coming tonight."

"Alice, I don't want to play games," I argue.

"I'm not suggesting you play a game, B. Just have a plan. Know what you're going to say… what you want to say and then say it," she urges. And as she's talking, I start planning. Yeah, I was hurt and justifiably pissed this morning, but I definitely understand the jealousy. And I'm also starting to realize that for a vain, cocky guy, he seems pretty insecure about me.

"Thanks, Alice. You're the best," I say absentmindedly. "Lock up for me?" I push myself up from the floor and grab my hoodie and keys from the chair at the front of the room.

"Okay, B. Knock 'im dead…break a leg and all that jazz," she hollers, laughing, as I race out the door and get into my truck.

* * *

EPOV

"Is she still coming in tonight?" Emmett asks. He's helping me re-stock the coolers before he leaves for the day. We went through a ton of beer at the bar this afternoon during the Washington football game.

"I don't know. She didn't say," I answer with a loud sigh.

"You sure know how to sabotage yourself, man," he says, shaking his head.

"Thanks, dickhead. I wasn't aware of the fact that I royally screwed up," I answer sarcastically.

He laughs. "You don't remember, do you? You don't remember how I kept messing up with Rose at the beginning. It's natural, I think, when a guy cares… we push too hard, overreact to stupid stuff."

I shrug, then catch movement in the parking lot from the corner of my eye. When I turn to look, I see Bella's truck backing out of her regular parking spot. Fuck. Guess she's not coming by.

Emmett takes off a few minutes later, leaving me alone with Tanya until Lauren gets in later. As usual, Tanya tries to talk to me, but she stops after I ask her what the fuck she did to my cash register. We ignore each other after that and I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as Lauren gets in. Of course, once Lauren's there to be a buffer, Tanya fucking starts in again with the chattering.

I do my job, but am constantly thinking of Bella. If she doesn't show up, I'll text her. No, I'll call her – apologize again. Maybe I should take her flowers. I don't know, that seems too cheesy – 'I'm sorry, have some daisies'. I don't think she'd like that.

I rake my hand through my hair repeatedly as I wait on a group of four flirty girls sitting at the bar. I've talked to them enough to be friendly, but not enough to encourage them. They're tipsy, giggly, pointing a shitload of cleavage at me… they ask a series of lame sports questions to keep me standing in front of them and talking. I jump when Lauren walks behind me and jabs me in the back.

"Pull back, stud. Your girl's here," she says quietly. Immediately, I turn toward the front door and see Bella coming in, looking for me. She smiles tentatively at me as I smile widely at her and move to stand in front of her when she sits on a barstool at the other end of the bar.

"Hi, Bella," I say, relief at seeing her making my voice more chipper than normal. I probably sound ridiculous. I lay a napkin on the bar and ask what she'd like to drink.

"Gin and tonic… except with club soda," she says, then laughs. "Gin and soda."

"I'm glad you're here," I say when I set the drink in front of her.

"Is it still okay?" she asks. "I… we need to talk. _I_ need to talk."

That scares the shit out of me. These kinds of conversations don't normally end well for the guy involved.

"Okay. I'm going on break in about twenty minutes. Can you wait? We can talk in my office," I ramble. She nods. If Em was here, I'd go right now, but I don't want Lauren to think I'm going to run off every time Bella comes in – this is still my business and I still have to manage my employees. I stay in front of Bella for the most part and talk to her, only moving away when I need to wait on someone else. She won't say much about what she did today, only that Rose and Alice hung out at the studio all afternoon. She blushes though, so I know they're up to something.

At last, it's break time for me. I check on the gigglies before I leave, getting another round for them and smiling when they ask if Bella is my girlfriend. I shrug, but when that doesn't seem to discourage them, I say, "Hopefully."

I lead Bella back to my office and shut the door behind us as she tosses her purse down on the couch against the wall.

"Okay, ballerina. You're up," I say softly, sitting on the front edge of my desk. I swallow nervously, my heart pounding, hoping like hell she doesn't say she won't see me anymore.

She looks at me, looks away, and starts pacing.

"We're a lot alike, Edward. Do you realize that?" she asks. She continues without looking at me or giving me a chance to answer. "We both haven't dated much lately. We both don't quite know what we're doing here. We both got jealous easily and overreacted… me with Renata, you with Tyler." She pauses in her gait and lecturing to look at me and smile slyly. "By the way, I know you know his name and just call him Taylor to bug me." I chuckle and nod slightly, looking back at her.

"I like you, Edward," she states bluntly.

"I like you-," I say, but stop when she holds up a hand.

"Shh. Zip it, barman. I'm not done," she says bossily, but she smirks. I smile back at her as she begins slowly pacing again. "I like you and I want to date you. I have some baggage, some of which you know, that I'm still trying to work through, so it may not be easy to have a relationship with me. That's up to you."

She walks over to her purse, laying on the couch by the wall. She bends over – there's that sweet ass again – and rummages through the huge bag, finally taking something out of it.

She turns back toward me holding a jewel case and I'm briefly alarmed that she's going to give back the CD I made for her. "Hip hop. For you. I was hoping we could listen to it together. Maybe tomorrow?" she asks. For the first time this evening, she seems uncertain… anxious. "Unless you have to work."

"Are you asking me out?" I reply, ducking my head forward slightly as I watch her cheeks flush pink. She's clearly a little uncomfortable, but she keeps her eyes on mine as she nods. I crook a finger at her, beckoning her closer. When she gets close enough that I can reach her, I grab her arm and tug gently until she moves to stand between my legs, close but not touching me. I slide my hand down her forearm until I reach her hand and she intertwines her fingers with mine. Since I'm sitting against the desk, we're almost the same height, so our eyes are even when they meet. "This isn't a pity date, is it?" I ask, just like she did yesterday.

She shakes her head slowly, her eyes shining with amusement, before she answers me. "No, Edward, it's not a pity date. Are you going to make me wait for an answer?"

"No, ballerina, I'm not gonna make you wait. I need to come in early, but I should be done by one, maybe earlier. Then we could spend the rest of the day together… if you want." I watch her eyes to see her reaction and am glad when I see them warm. She nods at me.

"Okay, so we know where I stand and we know what we're doing tomorrow. Now, what happened this morning-," she says.

"I was a jealous bastard. I'm sorry," I interject.

"Right. So, that can't happen again, Edward. Not the pissed off part – if we're going to do … _this_," she says, using the hand holding the CD case to motion back and forth between us, "we'll both be pissed off from time to time. But you have to tell me. Don't just shut me out. Don't just stop talking to me, okay?"

"Okay. Can I kiss you now?" I ask.

"No!" she laughs. "You're not even listening."

"I am. I won't shut you out," I insist. "Can I kiss you now?"

"You hurt me," she says seriously.

I knew that by the way she acted this morning… looked this morning. It still stings when she says it though. "Ballerina, I'm so sorry," I say sincerely. I squeeze the hand I'm holding and reach for her with my other hand. I take the CD from her hand and put it down on the desk beside me, then pull her toward me until I can wrap my arm around her back and hold her close to my chest.

"Do you want to date other people?" I ask, nervous to hear her answer. I mentally prepare to hear her say yes, willing myself not to act like a jealous dick again.

"Do you?" she asks, pulling back to look at me.

"No, ballerina. Just you," I say honestly. I'm still nervous about her answer though.

"Me, too. I mean, just you," she says, smiling at me.

I smile back. "_Now_ can I kiss you?" I ask. When she nods, I don't waste any time, putting my lips on hers immediately even though she's got some kind of light pink glossy stuff on them. Usually that shit bugs me, but not right now. Her soft, sticky lips meet mine eagerly and she lets go of my hand so she can put both arms around my neck, allowing me to wrap both of my arms around her waist.

We're not as tentative with each other tonight. Both of us open our lips to deepen the kiss right away and I slide one hand up her back, up her neck, to cup the back of her head. I wind my fingers through her silky hair as I use my other hand to pull her body closer to mine, pressing our chests together. We kiss heatedly for a couple of minutes before I slide my lips sideways to kiss along her jaw and then down her neck. When I let my tongue dart out to lick the sensitive skin under her ear, she gasps and reaches one hand into my hair, gripping firmly.

Smiling, knowing I found a spot I definitely want to explore again in private sometime, I kiss along her jaw to the other side to give equal treatment. Finally, I settle my lips back against hers, slowing us down slightly, using both of my hands to span her waist and then sliding them up until I feel her bra underneath my fingers. Christ, I want to touch her, but I know it's too soon… and I don't want to touch her for the first time in my office anyway. Maybe some other time though. Shit, yeah. That would be hot. A little feel-up session during break some night… but not this night.

Sighing, I pull my mouth away from hers, sliding my cheek along hers until my lips meet her ear. "Will you stay? I gotta get back behind the bar," I say quietly, then continue pressing kisses along her cheek and jaw.

"Yeah," she answers breathily. I pull back slightly to look at her, smiling when I see the same desire in her eyes that I feel rushing through me.

"Good," I reply, pulling her close to hug her for a minute. I rub one hand up and down her back slowly and kiss her temple, then her forehead as I wait for my heart rate to return to normal. She's squeezing me back and I'm surprised that I like this part almost as much as the making out part. That makes me chuckle as Bella plants a kiss on the side of my neck. Suddenly, her lips are against my ear.

"Come on," she whispers, then pulls gently away from me. She steps back so I can stand up. I look at her face and notice that her lips are bare now... her cheeks and jaw are slightly pink where I rubbed my unshaven face against her. "There's something I want to do out there anyway."

"What?" I ask, perplexed.

Laughing, she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the office door, only stopping long enough to pick up her purse from the couch.

"I want to kiss you in front of that bitchy waitress," she says, turning to look at me over her shoulder.

And when we get back out front, she fucking does.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hello? Anyone still here? I could make a bunch of crappy excuses for why this chapter has taken me so darn long, but... you don't care. I'll just say this... traveling husband, busy kids, and uncooperative Edward. It won't happen again. ;)**

**Thanks to Windgirl810 for waving her magic beta wand over this - thank you for putting up with my ridiculous sentence structure and tendency to either overcomma or not comma at all. I forced another lovely, Michelle0526, to pre-read. Love you both!**

**This chapter is dedicated to my friend Nic! I think she knows why...**

**Thanks for reading - if you still are. I will have no way of knowing since Fanfiction's counter is not working...again. **

**Please review! :)**

* * *

**BPOV**

Sunday morning, I wake up early, but lie in bed for a long time thinking about everything that's happened during the last eight days.

It was so bittersweet to go home to Forks, to see Jacob's family… my surrogate family. My dad and Jake's dad were friends before I was even born, and since it was just me and my dad for most of my life, we were often invited to the Black's for holidays, Sunday dinners… everything. Jake's mom, Sue, has always treated me like one of her own kids - meaning I'm hugged and kissed and scolded along with her boys. But always, she's loved me, and I gratefully accepted when she offered to go with me as I walked through my dad's house last week before turning it over to the new owners.

We went in the front door together, but Sue disappeared into the kitchen, giving me the freedom to wander through the rest of the house on my own. I leaned against the wide doorway to the living room, remembering Charlie napping on the couch while the television blared so loudly that I couldn't imagine anyone sleeping through it.

Smiling to myself, I turned and walked up the stairs, pausing for a moment on the step where I sat crying all those years ago, listening to my dad try to explain why she wasn't coming home. Pushing that memory aside, I continued up the stairs, trailing my fingers lightly across the worn spots on the handrail. I knew without looking where each one was. When I reached the top, I turned right and entered my childhood room for the last time. I gazed with disinterest around the barren room – I said goodbye to this room years ago – then walked over to the window, pulling the filmy, white curtain aside.

Resting my face against the chilly glass, I studied the Black's house across the street. I stared for a moment at the driveway where Jake, Jared and I used to play when we were children… where I used to watch Jared and his friends play basketball in the driveway when I was older. I smiled as I remembered lusting after a couple of those older, shirtless boys as a young teenager. They were too old for me at the time, but Jared forced them to be nice to me. I chuckled as I let the curtain drop back into place, thinking of my would-be brothers… who made me sit in the backseat the whole way from Seattle. Jerks. I was determined to sit up front on the way back.

As I entered the hallway and faced my dad's closed bedroom door, I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. As much as I didn't want to go in, I knew I'd regret it later if I let the opportunity pass by. I exhaled loudly and turned the knob. After I pushed the door open, I looked around the empty room and felt… nothing.

I studied the walls, picturing the plaques and photos that used to hang there – some of them were displayed at my apartment now. I looked toward the far left corner at the spot where the rocking chair used to be and remembered sitting there all night last Thanksgiving …staring at his bed and waiting for him to magically appear there – or come through the doorway and tell me that the accident was all a mistake, a huge mistake.

I walked to the middle of the room and turned in a circle… slowly. After ending up facing the same direction I started, I felt my knees buckle, my legs collapse. I sank to the tan carpet, sitting cross-legged first, and then pulling my knees in toward my chest, tightly wrapping my arms around them.

Sometime later, I heard Sue's footsteps on the stairs… I had no idea how long I'd been sitting on the floor of Charlie's room, trying to feel his presence.

"Bella?" she asked softly from the doorway. "We need to leave soon. We have to be at the lake in a couple of hours."

I nodded, but didn't get up from my spot on the floor, sitting in between the still-visible indentations in the carpet made by my dad's bed frame.

"Sweetheart," she said, trying again as she walked into the room and crouched down in front of me.

"I can't feel him here anymore, Sue. I thought I'd be able to feel him," I whispered, looking down at my knees and fighting the tears that had gathered in my eyes.

"He's not here, Bella. This house wasn't what he loved." She reached out one hand to cup my chin, pushing gently until I raised my face – and my eyes – toward her to find her looking intently at me. "This... this young woman… this face, is what he loved. You carry him with you now. You always will."

When I fell apart after that, she held me like a child.

And she stood with me – as all the Blacks did – two hours later at the lake where my dad and Billy Black loved to fish. All of us stood next to the mayor of Forks as he dedicated the walking trail circling the lake in memory of my dad.

Afterward, I accepted hugs from several of my dad's friends and co-workers, assuring everyone that I'm doing fine, that I'm happy in Seattle.

And now, lying here in my bed, I _am_… I am fine and I am happy. But it still hurts. I still miss him.

I think I always will.

Sniffling a little, I adjust the pillow under my head and resolve to leave those memories where they belong – in the past. I glance over at my pale yellow bedroom wall and smile when I see the fishing award hanging there, surrounded by pictures of my dad at the lake. In some of the pictures, he's alone, but in others he's with Billy or other friends. My favorite one is of Dad and Billy and Jake, Jared and me on one of the trips where they dragged me along. I was in college and dreaded spending a week with an RV full of men, but it turned out to be one of the best weeks of my life.

Smiling at the happy memories, I realize Sue is right; my dad is with me, not trapped in the places he frequented while he was living. If I hadn't been hurting so badly last week, I might have been able to see Sue's wisdom earlier… and might not have made an absolute fool out of myself Thursday night when I...

I cringe and then roll onto my stomach to bury my face in my pillow. Thursday night – a lot of it is still hazy or missing in my memory, but I have a hard time completely regretting it when the outcome has been so fantastic. Immediately, my mouth turns upward into a smirk when I think of Edward. It's taken us a while to get to this point… dating.

For a fleeting moment, I think of my dad again. I wish my dad could have known Edward. I think he would have liked Edward even though he tends to cuss quite a bit and he's been with a lot of women according to… everyone. Well, my dad wouldn't have had to know _that_ part.

Edward seems to really care about me though. He made an effort to build a friendship with me first, before he asked me out. And now we're _dating_. I flop onto my back again, then giggle as I stretch and turn my head to look at the clock. I need to get up soon, but I have a few more minutes.

I snuggle back under the covers and stare up at the ceiling… thinking about Edward… still smiling. I was a real groupie last night, sitting at the bar most of the evening talking to my… hmm, I don't know what to call him. It's too early to say boyfriend, I think. But friend isn't enough somehow. Definitely not enough.

I allow myself to enjoy one catty moment of triumph as I think about the look on the bitchy waitress' face when Edward and I came out of his office holding hands. Before I sat down on the barstool, I kissed him… a quick peck, no major PDA. Just a small, familiar kiss – the kind of kiss that lets people know that other kissing goes on behind closed doors. Tanya's hot glare turned icy cold after the kiss, but Edward didn't seem to notice her… or the girls sitting at the other end of the bar flirting with him. Even though he stepped away from me often to work, he always came back when he was done.

When I was ready to leave about midnight, Edward walked me to my truck, hugging me, kissing me quickly, and then opening my door for me. He asked me to text him when I got home so he'd know I was inside safely. When I did, he answered back that he'd call me tomorrow… which is now today.

Giving in to one last yawn, I roll out of bed and walk to the kitchen. As the coffee brews, I look out the sliding glass door that leads to my tiny balcony, studying the thick, gray clouds. I turn on the news and find out it might rain… or it might not. I roll my eyes. But it is going to be unseasonably warm today. The meteorologist is mostly absolutely certain about that. I roll my eyes again and walk back to the coffee pot.

A minute later, I carry my mug of coffee back to my bedroom and start picking through my closet. I pull out jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I shower and get ready, unsure what time he'll be ready to go. When he calls just a few minutes after noon, I'm ready and tell him I'll pick him up. Then I grab his hoody to wear in case it's cold and practically race to my truck, eager to see him.

He's waiting outside his building for me, so I don't have to look for a parking spot. He opens the passenger door to my truck and slides in, his wide, face-splitting grin matching mine. He's carrying the CD of hip hop songs I made him and he sets it on the dashboard before shutting the door and turning to face me.

"Hey, ballerina," he says, extending his left arm along the back of the seat and leaning over toward me.

"Hi," I whisper as I watch his lips come closer. We kiss, then kiss again. He pulls back to look into my eyes before leaning in once more, raising his right hand to cup the side of my face this time. I feel the warm, wet tip of his tongue glide across my bottom lip just before he captures it between both of his. My already racing heart speeds up more as he pulls gently on my lip. Just as I feel a moan start to rise from my throat, we are interrupted by a car horn from behind us. Oh, crap. I forgot that I'm blocking the right lane of the street.

We both chuckle lightly as we pull apart and Edward sits back up on his side.

"Buckle up," I say, facing forward again and letting the smile fade from my face. My voice sounds husky so I clear my throat quietly, smiling again when I hear him do the same before he answers.

"Okay. Where are we going?" he asks, buckling his seatbelt and then putting his arm across the back of the bench seat again.

I tell him my plan to go to one of the beaches along Lake Washington since it's such a warm day for October. The sky is still overcast, but it's lighter than it was earlier. He agrees and we decide to stop at a deli on the way to pick up lunch.

When we get to the beach, I back into a parking spot facing the water and Edward lowers the tailgate so we can sit down. We talk and eat our sandwiches as we sit looking out at the small waves rippling across the surface of the lake. Unable to sit still, I swing my legs back forth gently, bumping into his from time to time. When we're done, Edward hops down and takes our trash to throw it away… and I stare at his butt the whole time he's walking.

I feel the stirrings of desire in my blood as I watch him and get so lost in my thoughts that I have to snap my eyes back up to his face when he turns around. Judging by his smirk, I think he noticed how far south my eyes wandered. I close my eyes briefly as I feel the familiar rush of heat to my cheeks. But I quickly open them to watch as he saunters easily back to me, hoisting himself into the truck bed effortlessly and shifting around to rest his back against the side of the truck. I scoot around, mimicking his position, facing him. We smile at each other, both of us stretching our legs out between us.

"Tell me stuff," he prods, nudging my leg with his foot.

"Like what?" I ask, self-conscious.

"I don't know. Whatever you want," he shrugs.

"I'm boring," I hedge.

"Ballerina, you're definitely not boring," he says with a laugh. "You constantly surprise me. Tell me anything."

I let my mind rove over several subjects before settling on the Black family. I tell Edward all about my beloved surrogate family, delighting when he laughs along with several of the stories and even interjects some similar stories about his family.

Finally, tired of talking about myself, I scoot to the end of the truck bed, turning to let my legs hang over the tailgate once again.

"Let's take a walk," I say, looking over my shoulder at Edward as I hop down.

"I think it's gonna rain, Bella," he answers, tipping his head up to look at the sky. It's still gray and overcast, but it doesn't look any closer to raining than it did earlier, at least to me.

"You scared of a little rain, barman?" I tease, smiling at him and then turning away to walk slowly toward the paved pathway running along the lake front.

I don't hear him approach me, so I squeal when he grabs me around the waist from behind and lifts me up. "Making fun of me again, ballerina?" he says lowly in my ear, reigniting the fuse of desire I felt earlier. I grab his forearms with my hands.

"Just a little," I whisper as I feel him rest his face against the side of my neck for a few seconds, chuckling quietly. "It's one of my favorite things to do."

"Oh, really?" he asks, sounding amused. "What do you like to make fun of?"

I can't really think because he's still holding me tightly. All I can think about are strong arms around me and a muscular chest behind me… and his hips pressed against mine. He's also still got his face buried in my neck, exhaling warm, humid air right under my ear and making my heart race. But I try to come up with an answer anyway.

"Um... your car, your hair... the way you always mess with your hair," I say, struggling to catch my breath.

"Well, I'm glad I can entertain you," he says quietly. I'm fairly sure that he could find some other ways to entertain me if he tried. He presses one quick kiss against the side of my neck, then he sets me back on my feet and releases me from his strong grasp.

"Come on, ballerina," he says, moving in front of me. I follow him down to the path, shoving my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. We walk side by side along the trail as I ask Edward questions about his life. He talks some more about his family, the basketball buddies that he plays with Tuesday afternoons, how nervous he was to open his own bar.

When we reach the narrow beach, covered with tiny pebbles instead of sand, Edward veers toward it, holding out a hand to steady me as I step down beside him. He doesn't let go of my hand as we continue walking.

"Rain's blowing in," he remarks, looking out over the water. The wind has increased, turning the air chillier and I suddenly wish I hadn't left Edward's hoody in the cab of my truck. The small ripples present earlier on the lake have given way to bigger white-capped waves.

"Really? The sky looks the same as earlier to me," I remark, looking up.

"Bella, you grew up here," he remarks incredulously, turning his head to look at me. "You know what it feels like before it rains."

"No, I grew up in Forks," I clarify. "It just rains all the time there. You never have to wonder."

"This is more a feeling in the air. It's gonna pour in about three minutes," he predicts. I scoff, thinking he's kidding, and look over at him. He holds his watch up to show me the minute hand. "Three minutes." He nods seriously and I giggle back at him.

"You sound like Renata," I tease. "Where's your crystal ball? Or do you read tea leaves? Do I have to start calling you 'Edward the Great' if you're right?" I pull my hand away from his and turn around, walking backward to face him as I tease him. He's trying not to laugh, but his eyes are shining with amusement.

He shrugs. "Hey, I don't mind being wet. I'm not the one wearing a white t-shirt," he says, looking pointedly at my chest.

Oh, shit. I look down, then look back up. He's right.

"Maybe we'd better head back," I concede, looking up at the sky just in time to be hit on the forehead by a big, cold raindrop.

I walk past him quickly, heading back the way we came, and hear him laughing uncontrollably as he follows. I glance over my shoulder to see him holding his watch in front of his face. "Thirty seconds, ballerina," he announces between guffaws.

And 25 seconds later, as if Mother Nature heard me taunting Edward's freaky rain-predicting abilities, the skies open up and a chilly rain begins to fall, turning almost immediately into a downpour. Edward speeds up – to catch up with me – and takes my hand, pulling me along behind him. As the rain continues pelting us even harder, I stumble as we step up onto the path, managing not to fall, but just barely. Edward glances back at me with concern and pulls me to his side, wrapping his arm around my waist. I wrap both of my arms around him and we walk as fast as our awkward stance allows the rest of the way to the truck.

"I'll drive," he says, ushering me to the passenger side of my truck. I hand him the keys and he unlocks and opens the door, then shuts it once I'm inside.

After I lean over to unlock the driver's door, I sit back up and look down at my wet, now-see-through, white shirt. Hurriedly, I pull the thin fabric away from my chest, then groan in horror when it snaps right back, plastering itself to my skin once again. I hear Edward slam the tailgate closed on his way around the back and then he gets in beside me, sitting on my hoody – his hoody – just as I'm about to grab it and cover up.

He's chuckling quietly as he gets in. I turn to look at him and see beads of water slowly dripping down his face and neck. I have a sudden impulse to reach over and catch them with my fingers. Instead, I busy my hands by twisting them into the wet material of my shirt. His hair, usually so carefully crafted, is now dark and flattened to his head. Typically, the first thing he does is run his hand through the top of it a few times, sprinkling drops of water in every direction – including on me – in his effort to get it to stand up again. I smile as I watch him.

Once he starts the truck, I scoot to the middle of the seat to turn on the defroster and the heat in the truck. I feel his eyes on me as I adjust the temperature settings, then I start to scoot away.

"Where are you going, ballerina?" he says quietly. When I turn my head to look at him, his smile is gone. His green eyes bore into mine... his long, dark eyelashes framing them. He tucks some of my wet hair behind my ear with his right hand.

"Back to my side, Edward," I answer just as quietly, but I feel my heart begin to pound.

"That's 'Edward the Great' to you," he teases quietly, turning a bit to face me as he slides his right arm around my shoulders and leans toward me.

As he presses his lips firmly against mine, another sharp stab of desire races through me and I lean into him, sliding my hands around his neck and tangling one in his damp hair. I open my lips to him immediately, sighing softly as his tongue sweeps into my mouth to tangle with mine. I press my chest closer to him and feel the warmth of his left hand as he lifts it to lay on the side of my waist.

As we continue kissing, he holds me close with his right arm even as his left hand is on the move. From the side of my waist, he slides his hand around to my lower back, spreading his fingers wide. When he slides his hand up my back and tugs me more tightly to him, I sigh again and he groans quietly in response. He shifts his right hand from its spot on my shoulder up into my hair, gripping the damp strands with his fingers. His left hand traces along the band of my bra from the middle of my back toward the side, under my arm, and I automatically angle my body out slightly, hoping he'll touch me. But he lowers his hand slightly before sliding around to the front, so that he grazes my ribs instead.

Breathing heavily, he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine, looking into my eyes as he catches his breath. Loosening his grip on me slightly, he sits up a little straighter, then chuckles as he glances at the front window.

"Jesus, ballerina. We fogged up the fucking windows," he says quietly, looking at me again… smiling at me.

"Yeah, I guess the defroster can't quite keep up," I agree, letting my hands slide down to rest on his chest.

He ducks in to kiss me gently once more, then murmurs against my lips, "I think you'd better put the sweatshirt on now."

I can't quite stifle my giggle. "You're sitting on it," I point out, scooting away from him, toward the other side of the truck. Grinning, he tugs the sweatshirt out from underneath himself and hands it over to me. I quickly slide it on while Edward turns the defroster on high and looks around on the dashboard – probably for the windshield wiper knob.

"On the left," I say, and he finds it immediately, switching them on and then grimacing when they squeak loudly across the glass.

"Jesus, ballerina, why do you drive this rickety old hunk of junk?" he asks. He's kidding, I think, but my feelings are still a little hurt.

"My dad gave me this truck when I was 17," I say adamantly. "I love this truck." I know I sound defensive. I _am_ defensive. My dad was so proud to give me this truck and I was so excited to get it. I guess that, to me, it's a tangible symbol of my relationship with my dad. I know I'll drive it until it falls apart.

"Hey, Bella, I was kidding. You know that, right?" he asks gently, reaching over to grab my hand. I turn my head to look at him and nod, smiling when I see that he was being sincere. "This truck fits you perfectly."

As we drive back to his building, he asks me random questions about high school, about boyfriends. There isn't much to tell there, but he acts interested anyway. When he parks in a spot in front of his building, I look quizzically at him.

He leans across the seat to settle his lips lightly against mine. "Come up?" he asks, kissing across my cheek toward my ear.

I pull away slightly because I can't think straight when he's doing that. I also can't form complete sentences. "I can't sit around like this," I say, gesturing to my wet clothes.

"I'll give you something to wear and we'll dry your stuff. We haven't even listened to the hip hop CD yet," he says, trying to sway me. He's not going to have to try very hard.

Exhaling loudly, I nod.

* * *

When we get upstairs, he gets me boxers, athletic shorts and a t-shirt, then puts the hip hop CD in his stereo system while I load my wet clothes into the dryer. He turns the music on as I come back into the room.

"You figured out the dryer okay?" he asks, turning to look at me.

"Yes, Edward," I nod, smirking at him. "I pushed start just fine on my own."

"Ballerina," he says warningly as I laugh. When I get close enough to him, he tugs my arm and I stumble into him, happily letting him wrap me in his arms.

We sit down on his couch and talk quietly as the hip hop plays in the background. After six or seven songs, he sighs. "I'm sorry, ballerina. I don't really like this music," he says, looking at me hesitantly.

"Edward, we don't have to like all the same stuff. It's okay," I say reassuringly, stroking my fingers across the back of his hand.

"You're still gonna hang out with me?" he asks, nudging me with his elbow.

"Yeah," I say grudgingly. "I guess. I bet I can find a hip hop song you like, anyway. I'm gonna keep trying." He laughs and stands up, then pulls me to my feet.

"Okay. You keep trying," he relents, pulling me close. "Come on. Let's cook dinner." We spend the next hour in the kitchen, working together to make pasta and salad. I put my own clothes back on when they're dry, but stay to watch a movie after we eat. We talk more… we make out more, but there's still no touching in any of the commonly known erogenous zones. However, I'm rapidly discovering that my body tends to believe that anywhere Edward puts his hands is an erogenous zone… neck, arms, back. I like it all.

At nine o'clock, I reluctantly leave. For the first time in a really long time, I had a full weekend of outside-the-apartment activities. So I've got to get home and get ready for the week. Like last night, Edward walks me to my truck, kisses me goodnight and asks me to text when I'm safely in my apartment. When I do, he asks me to stop and see him before my classes Monday night. Smiling, I type out my assent and then giggle as my phone rings in my hand. It's him.

Even though we just spent the whole day together, butterflies erupt in my stomach and I hastily clear my throat before answering. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bella," he says quickly.

"Hi," I answer, irrationally giddy that he's calling me after we spent the whole afternoon and evening together.

"I forgot to say thanks… you know, for the date," he says.

I laugh before I answer. "You're welcome, Edward. I had a good time."

"I did, too. So… I'll see you tomorrow, right?" he asks.

"Yeah. I'll stop by," I confirm.

"Okay. See you then. Night, ballerina," he says softly.

"Bye," I reply, smiling widely as we disconnect. Biting my lower lip, I contemplate whether he really called to say thanks or whether, like me, he wasn't quite ready for the day to end. In the end, I decide it doesn't really matter _why_ he called… it only matters that he did.

* * *

For the next three days, both Edward and I are busy working, but we make time for quick conversations and kisses. At the Full Moon, they're getting ready for the big Halloween party coming up on Saturday. I know Edward won't have a lot of free time until Sunday, but I told him I'd come by the bar Thursday after classes.

I've just finished cleaning the studio Thursday night when I hear a knock on the side door. As I walk toward it, I hear Edward's voice.

"Ballerina, it's me," he calls through the crack.

Smiling widely, I unlock the door and open it to let him in. "Hi," I say, rising up on my tiptoes to peck his lips.

"Hi," he answers, putting his arms around my waist and kicking the door shut with his foot. He leans back against the closed door, pulling me with him to rest against his chest. He lowers his mouth to mine again and I eagerly part my lips to let him in. His tongue swipes slowly, almost lazily, against mine for a minute, until I shift my weight from side to side... wanting more – wanting him.

He grunts into my mouth then, kissing me more intently and spreading his hands to span my waist across the back. He slides them down until he's almost touching my behind, but he stops just at the top curve, his index fingers and thumbs slipping inside the fabric of my cami to stroke slowly along the skin above my booty shorts. I switch one hand from around his neck to around his waist, sliding it up the inside of his t-shirt to scratch my nails lightly across his lower back.

"Shit, ballerina," he groans, pulling away. "This isn't why I came over here." He chuckles lightly, his green eyes glowing in the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway.

He pulls me into a hug, using one hand to push my head into his chest right over his heart. I smile when I hear it thundering away just like mine.

He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. "My dad's next door. He wants to meet you," he says.

I gasp and jerk my head up to look at him. "Edward! Oh, my God! Why were you kissing me like that right before you want me to meet your dad? Oh, my God. He's gonna know – he's gonna know we were over here making out," I say, my voice rising higher and higher as panic sets in.

"Bella, hey... calm down," he laughs, letting go of me easily when I pull myself out of his arms. "Baby, it's all right. He just wants to say hi."

I'm aware that he called me baby, which I really like, but I can't allow myself to enjoy it right now. I'll have to revisit that later.

"Jesus, Edward. Why did you... now I'm all... and I have to meet... and it's your _dad_," I stammer, glaring at him when he continues to laugh at me. I can tell he makes an effort to control himself then, wiping the smile off his face and stepping forward to take my hands in his.

"Bella, he's gonna like you," Edward says softly, smiling at me. "Everyone likes you. He'll wonder what the fuck you're doing with me though." He chuckles and raises one eyebrow at me.

One side of my mouth curls upward and I squeeze his hands. "I'm a mess," I argue.

"You look good, ballerina... but you might want to change if you don't want me to beat up every fucking guy in the bar," he says. I glance down at my bare, pale legs and too-short shorts. "It's gonna be easy. Mom and Rose went to dinner, but Emmett's next door." I exhale loudly, happy to know I have another ally.

Finally, I nod at him. "Okay. You go back. I'll change and be over in five minutes," I offer. He looks at me questioningly. "I promise. Five minutes." With another quick kiss, he turns and goes out the door.

I rush into my office, grabbing my jeans, long-sleeved shirt and makeup bag from my duffle. I go straight to the bathroom and change quickly, trying to yank the v-neck of my t-shirt a little higher. If I just had some decent boobs, it wouldn't look so saggy. Sighing in aggravation, I pull the hair tie out and brush my hair then put a little powder and lip gloss on.

I try to study my reflection objectively. My hair looks okay – there's a little bump where the elastic band has been wrapped around it all night, but at least it's not frizzy. My face looks okay – no big zits or blotchiness. I check my teeth – nothing stuck – and chew on a breath mint as I put everything away.

I glance at my watch: four and a half minutes have gone by. I get my keys, purse and duffle, switch off the lights and head out the door, stopping briefly to stash my duffle in the cab of my truck.

When I walk in the side door of the bar, I immediately spot Emmett standing behind the bar.

"Tiny!" he calls, waving me over. I smile as I approach him, knowing that he's trying to ease my anxiety. "You want a shot?" he stage whispers when I get close enough.

"No, thanks," I laugh, feeling more relaxed already. "Water will be fine."

He chatters at me while he fixes my ice water with lime, then leans across the bar to touch my hand. "The doc's a nice guy, Tiny. You'll have him eating out of your hand in no time." He points me toward the farthest booth toward the back – I can't even see it from where I'm standing.

Nervously, I walk in that direction, smiling with relief when my eyes meet Edward's and he slides out of the booth and stands to greet me. As soon as he does, the man sitting across from him follows suit, scooting out of the booth and turning as he stands to look at me. Holy hell. Edward wasn't lying – Rose looks a lot like her dad. He smiles her same smile, his blue eyes twinkling, as I reach them.

"Bella, this is my dad, Carlisle," Edward says. His voice sounds normal, but his face is turning a little red. He looks so cute – all embarrassed – that I grin more widely at him before I turn my attention to his dad.

"Bella, it's so nice to meet you at last," Dr. Cullen says, reaching out to shake my hand.

I glance down at the hand I'm grasping – _this_ Edward gets from his father. Their large hands, their long, slender fingers are the same.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Dr. Cullen," I say.

"Please call me Carlisle," he says as he releases my hand.

Edward takes my water so I can slide in the booth first, then sets it in front of me and slides in beside me, reaching over to grab my hand under the table. He squeezes my palm gently and then rests our entwined hands on his leg.

As Carlisle asks me questions, I see him glance at Edward often. Edward is fidgety, seemingly unable to sit still. I look at him quizzically – he's not like this when his mom is here.

"I think I'm making Edward nervous," Carlisle says to me. He seems to be good-natured… and he seems to be enjoying torturing his son a little. I smile when I think of my dad always making a point to parade around in his boxers and a t-shirt mere minutes before my friends were due to arrive during my high school years. I would beg him to get dressed every time. Maybe it's a dad thing to derive a little fun from embarrassing the kids. "I'm not sure what it is that he's afraid I'm going to say." He chuckles and I laugh, too.

"Dad," Edward says warningly.

"Relax, Edward," Carlisle says. "Your mother is much more prone to gushing than I am. I'm not going to say anything about how glad your mother and I are that Bella is around… or how anxious we are to have you two over to the house for dinner." He pauses for effect. "Oops."

Carlisle and I laugh and after a few seconds, Edward grudgingly joins in.

"I'm telling Mom on you," Edward says as Esme and Rose approach our table.

"I'm not scared of your mother," Carlisle states defiantly, not able to see that Esme is coming up behind him.

"Oh, you're not, huh?" Esme asks from behind him, crossing her arms across her chest and raising her eyebrows jokingly. Now it's Carlisle who's red-faced, embarrassed, even as he laughs with everyone else.

Carlisle slides over to let Esme in the booth, pecking her lips lightly once she's seated. Rose pulls up a chair at the end of the booth.

With Rose and Esme's arrival, the talk turns to the Halloween party this weekend. Esme excitedly asks about everyone's costumes. Edward insists that he never dresses in costume as Esme shakes her head at him and Rose rolls her eyes dramatically.

"What about you, Bella?" Esme asks, smiling at me.

"I'm not sure. Alice is bringing something by tomorrow. She kind of put herself in charge," I laugh. I was actually relieved, for once, when Alice told me she'd take care of it. I hadn't had any great ideas and Alice really is good at this kind of stuff.

"Emmett and I are surprising everyone," Rosalie announces. "We'll definitely win the costume contest."

"You guys can't win, Rose," Edward says, frowning at her. "You're employees."

"Whatever. I say we'll win anyway," she says, leveling her gaze at her brother. "Or don't you _ever_ want me to lift the-."

"Shut the hell up, Rose," Edward says through gritted teeth.

They glare at each other for a minute until Carlisle breaks the silence.

"See, Es? _This_ is what it sounded like when they lived at home. You don't miss that, do you?" he asks, winking at me. "Esme's got a bit of the empty nest syndrome," he explains quietly to me. I nod and smile back at him.

"No, I don't miss this part," Esme answers quickly, her green eyes shining the same way Edward's do when he's amused. "I miss the part where they were sweet babies," she says wistfully.

"Mom, Rose was never a sweet baby. She bit me the day you brought me home from the hospital," Edward jokes. Rose punches his arm, but they smile at each other and laugh as he rubs the spot she hit.

Carlisle craftily changes the subject then, and we sit in the booth talking for another hour. As Carlisle and Esme prepare to leave, Carlisle reaches across the table to pat my hand.

"Take care, Bella. We'll see you again soon," he says kindly, sparing a glance in Edward's direction. "I'm sure."

* * *

Saturday night, my doorbell rings four times in quick succession as I dash toward the door.

"Jesus, Alice, put your patient panties on," I grumble as I unlock the door and pull it open.

We each gasp as we look at each other. Hers in excitement, mine in disbelief.

"It's perfect! You look great!" she gushes excitedly, pulling me into a hug. "He won't be able to keep his hands off you tonight after he sees you in this. There will be groping!"

I hug back, now speechless for two reasons. I decide to ignore the groping comment and focus instead on her outfit as we pull apart.

"Alice, what the hell are you dressed as?" I stammer.

"A schoolgirl. A _naughty_ schoolgirl," she replies, twirling in a circle for me. Short plaid skirt, tight white shirt and knee-hi socks. I shake my head slightly at her. "And Jasper is the stuffy professor I tempt into exploring _his_ naughty side. Wait 'til you see him. Tweed jacket, pipe, the whole bit." She laughs.

"Alice, you are unbelievable," I say, still shocked. I'm not really sure why though. I should have expected something like this from her, especially after all the role-playing she talked about today at Rose's final lap dance lesson. I have way too much knowledge of both of their sex lives now.

After Rose left this afternoon, Alice badgered me about Edward and was disappointed to learn that nothing new happened this week. I tried to explain that we hadn't really been alone because he hadn't had any nights off, but Alice shook her head at me and mumbled something unintelligible under her breath. I distinctly heard the words "naïve girl" and "idiot boy" though.

"What? I don't look hot enough?" she asks, turning to look in the mirror beside my door and snapping me out of my not-so-fond remembrance. "Nah. I'm totally smokin'. And, by the way, so are you… in a much more innocent way." She nods at me and motions with her finger for me to turn in a circle.

Smiling, I indulge her. She was right earlier… this costume is perfect. When she showed up yesterday with the black, shimmery flapper dress – complete with several rows of fringe – I knew right away I would love it. The shift dress is modest enough for me to feel comfortable wearing it, but has a broad neckline that accentuates my shoulders and neck. The cut of the dress is shorter and less boxy than a traditional flapper dress, skimming close to my body and ending a few inches above my knees.

I didn't even fight Alice about the fishnet stockings she brought, agreeing that they looked right with the dress. She showed me how to pin my hair so that it looked like I'd gotten a bob and gave me a headband adorned with a long, black feather.

As I'm turning, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, noting how dramatic the deep red lipstick and dark fabric look against my pale skin, and smile. I'm anxious and excited to see Edward's reaction; other than our date to Pike Place, I've never been dressed in anything except casual clothes or dancewear around him.

"You look like you stepped out of the roaring 20's," Alice pronounces as I face her again. She nods, then wiggles her eyebrows at me. "Edward doesn't stand a chance. Jasper's waiting in the car. Let's go."

* * *

Four hours later, Alice and I are dancing – jumping around in front of the band with all the other drunks. Except I'm not drunk. I've had a few beers, but not enough to impair me. I glance over at the bar… Edward's been busy the whole night. I've barely been able to talk to him, but I catch him looking at me a lot. Right now he's standing at the cash register, so his back is turned toward the room. I study his broad shoulders… the way his sides taper down to his waist… and sigh quietly.

Rose suddenly appears beside me and pulls my hand, turning me toward her.

"Quit staring, slut," she laughs. "You two are ridiculous… all these smoldering, lustful looks at each other. It's like you're trying to make me feel sorry for you. It won't work." She shakes her head at me as I look at her confusedly, and then hugs me with one arm in a rare display of affection.

I laugh and hug her back. Every time I look at Rose and Emmett tonight, I laugh. They came as the Hilton sisters. Rose looks pretty normal, just a little glammed up. Emmett… Emmett is wearing a red, strapless dress, a long, blonde wig, false eyelashes and red lipstick. I almost fell down when I first saw him. When he saw me, he pronounced me "hot" – and although he didn't say it with quite the same inflection as Paris, it was close. Edward, who was standing next to Emmett, nodded in agreement, but kissed me instead of talking to me… which was just fine with me.

Alice, Rose and I dance together for the next few minutes. When Jasper pulls Alice away to dance, Rose and I both turn toward the bar again. Edward's not back there, but Emmett lifts his arm to wave at us.

"I had to sew four dresses together to make that outfit for him. I'd better be getting something in return later," she yells in my ear. I giggle, then startle as someone grabs my waist from behind. I whirl around and come face to face with Edward just as the band segues into a slow song.

"Hey," I say, grinning up at him stupidly. Maybe I am a little impaired.

"Hi," he answers, smiling back. "Dance with me?" When I nod, he slides his right arm more tightly around my waist and reaches for my right hand with his left.

I slide my left arm around his neck, sighing as I remember the last time we danced… on my birthday… I remember how I wished he was mine. I stroke my fingers gently over the nape of his neck several times before burying them in his hair.

He leans down to whisper in my ear. "You look fucking great, ballerina," he breathes. I smile and turn my head to press my lips against his cheek. He pulls back to press his lips to mine.

"I like this song," I say after a minute – I know some of the words…still my guitar gently weeps. "The Beatles?"

"Yeah," he answers, still smiling at me and letting go of my hand so he can slide both arms around my waist. He kisses me again. "Are you having a good time?"

"Yes. Are you?" I ask.

"Yeah, except Lauren keeps fucking making fun of me," he says with a chuckle.

"Why is Lauren making fun of you?" I ask, chuckling just because he is.

"Because I keep looking at you," he says. I narrow my eyes and look up at him.

"Really? You have a thing for me or something?" I ask. Yeah, I'm shamelessly asking for confirmation that he likes me. I mean, I know… but it's always nice to _know_.

Nodding slowly, he leans down to press his lips softly to mine, then moves his lips to my ear. "Come home with me?" he whispers. Closing my eyes, I nod, too.

* * *

I'm nervous as hell when we get to Edward's two hours later. It's been a long time since I slept with Seth… more than two years. I should have kept drinking beer instead of switching to Diet Coke.

Once we're inside his condo, in his living room, he kisses me. "I'll get you something to sleep in, okay? And I'm going to shower. I've been at the bar all fucking day," he says.

A few minutes later, I'm in the extra bathroom changing and trying to get all the pins out of my hair while Edward showers in his room. Once my hair is loose and long again and I'm dressed in the same Radiohead t-shirt and plaid boxers I wore last week, I wash off my make-up, and then walk to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. I twist the top off and gulp a third of the bottle greedily… guzzling like it's liquid courage – which of course it's not.

And then I hear footsteps in the hallway, so I turn my head and see Edward walking toward me. He's wearing basketball shorts and pulling his t-shirt on over his head, giving me a momentary glimpse of his chest and stomach before they're covered. I swallow more water hastily, splashing a little around my mouth. I lower the bottle and raise my other hand to wipe away the excess.

"Can I have a sip?" he asks as he approaches where I'm standing at the kitchen counter. Jesus. He smells good… he always smells good, but now he's freshly… good. Shit. Can't think clearly. Breathe, Bella. Answer him and breathe.

"Mmmhmm," I manage to utter, holding the water out toward him. He takes it from my hand and drinks. I turn my body to face him… to watch him.

"You okay, ballerina?" he asks, setting the water down on the counter and resting his hands on my shoulders. I nod, lowering my eyes, then quickly raising them again when I'm afraid he'll think I'm looking at… _him_. I focus on his neck… he has three tiny moles right above the neckline of his t-shirt.

"Hey, Bella," he says. "What's wrong?" He puts two fingers under my chin and tilts my face up toward his, but I keep my eyes on his neck.

I swallow loudly. "Nothing. I'm just…," I whisper, letting the words die out and the silence take over.

"What, baby?" he asks, so softly, so… carefully that my eyes lift to meet his all on their own. When I see the worry in his gaze, I want to wash it away. I smile and lift my hand to his face, scratching my fingers lazily through the already-visible whiskers on his jaw. He smiles tentatively as I slide my hand from his jaw around to the back of his neck and pull at the same time I raise myself on my toes and meet his lips with my own.

Our lips touch gently, lingeringly once… twice. The third time, our open mouths crash together in a tangle of lips, teeth and tongues. I wind my arms around his neck. Edward slides his arms around me, up the inside of my shirt to caress my bare back. As his hands skim up and down – and then around toward my front – I whimper quietly and hope he'll keep going. But instead of sliding up toward my chest, Edward's hands shift to my back again, fingers spreading wide and pulling me closer.

Suddenly, he pulls his mouth away from mine… pulls his hands from my skin. He backs up a step, out of my arms, and reaches for my hands with his. Smiling, he backs up another step, pulling me forward with him. When I take two steps toward him instead of just one, he leans in to kiss me quickly. He backs up again, tugging me along and then finally drops one hand and turns around, pulling me down the hallway toward his room.

The nerves that were silenced by the kissing quickly spike again as we reach his doorway, but he doesn't seem to notice my hesitance as he continues walking into the room. He stops when we're next to the bed and kisses me once more.

"I'll be right back. I'm just gonna go turn off all the lights I left on out there," he says. Ah, he does realize I'm freaking out a little here and he's giving me a minute to get myself together. Jeez. Now I like him even more.

Hurriedly, I pull the covers back and get in bed on the same side where I slept last week. When he comes back a minute later, he gets in the other side and we lie facing each other. Immediately, he starts talking, telling me that he let Lauren pick the costume winner so he wouldn't get in trouble with Rose… asking me which costumes I thought were best… agreeing with me when I said I thought Emmett's was the funniest. I laugh with him when he says that although he likes Alice and Jasper, he thought their costumes were creepy.

As our laughter dies down, I scoot closer to him, raising my hand to his shoulder as he lifts one to my waist. We lean toward each other and kiss… then never pull apart. He doesn't let his lips leave mine as he pulls me closer. I slide my hand down his arm then back up, working my hand under the short sleeve of his shirt to rest on his bare shoulder. Soon after, his hand snakes up under my shirt and rests just above my waist.

Slowly over the next couple of minutes, his hand moves higher and higher until finally he cups my breast in his hand, using his thumb to swipe across the nipple. Sighing into his mouth, I kiss him more fervently and shift my legs, hooking my ankle around his leg. He pulls his mouth away from mine, kissing down my neck as I tilt my head back to give him better access.

He uses his teeth and tongue to assault my neck before moving his lips back to mine. He continues caressing me for several more minutes, then lets his hand drift down to my stomach at the same time he slows his passionate kisses.

"Ballerina, we'd probably better stop before we get carried away," he murmurs.

"Okay," I whisper, both disappointed and relieved. I press my closed lips to his two more times.

He rolls to his back and pulls me into his arms so that I'm pressed up against his side, my head resting on his shoulder. He kisses the top of my head as I wrap my arm around his waist. Smiling, I let my eyes slide closed and, content, fall asleep.

* * *

**EPOV**

Fuck. Fuck… fuck… fucking hell. I lie wide awake, forcing myself to stay on hand patrol before I do something I shouldn't… something I _really_ shouldn't.

I grasp her hand and move it up again. As soon as I let go, she slides it right back down. Why do I keep fucking letting go? Because it feels so goddamn good to have a hand besides my own on my dick – it's been weeks since anyone else has touched me. And her repeated gropings in the dead of night – in her fucking sleep – have me aching... and aching for more.

"Bella… Bella… ballerina," I whisper.

"Hmm?" she answers sleepily. Her eyelids flutter, but don't really open.

I groan. "Jesus Christ, Bella. If you don't stop putting your hand there…," I say hoarsely, letting my voice trail off at the end.

"Putting my hand where?" she mumbles.

"_There_," I answer, covering her hand with mine. Her hand squeezes a tiny bit, exploring… trying to figure out what she's touching… trying to fucking torture me… I don't know. "Fuck."

She gasps when she realizes what she's got a handful of, but she doesn't let go. I pull her hand away roughly and roll us, pushing myself in between her legs and hovering over her.

"Edward," she sighs breathily, reaching her hands up to my face, my hair.

I dive toward her mouth, pulling at her lower lip with my teeth and balancing on one arm as I slide my hand up her shirt again, unable to keep my hands off her chest now that I've touched her perfect tits. I cup one, squeezing gently, plucking at the nipple as she whimpers under me.

She pulls at my shirt until I awkwardly pull it off and toss it to the side; and she sighs again as she glides her hands across my bare chest. Jesus, all her little fucking sounds drive me more insane. She pulls her own shirt up part way so that our warm skin meets, sticks together. I feel her hips lift toward mine hesitantly and I thrust myself against her, moaning her name as I rock myself against her again and again.

"Oh, God, Edward," she says hoarsely as she hooks her hands in the waistband of my shorts and starts to push them down.

Fuck.

I scoot my hips back and pull my mouth away from hers, burying my face in her neck. I slide my hand out of her shirt, pressing my palm to the bed beside her shoulder.

"Oh, God. We have to stop, Bella. I can't sleep with you," I growl.

"What? Wha… you don't want to… you don't want… me?" she whispers between gasping breaths, tensing under me.

"Jesus Christ, ballerina. Of course I want you… of course I want to," I insist, then press a kiss against her skin. "I just can't." I think she knows I _can_. She had her hand all over my rock-hard dick a few minutes ago.

"Why not?" she asks, still breathing heavily. She lifts her hands to my head and runs her fingers soothingly through my hair again and again. Fuck, now I feel worse.

I sigh loudly. "Because my fucking sister made me promise not to."

Her fingers slow... and then stop moving altogether. The room is completely quiet except for the sound of our still-rapid breathing. Neither of us breaks the verbal silence for a minute – until I feel her breath ruffle my hair as she exhales one word confusedly.

"What?"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So, it's been a long wait - I'm sorry. I really never think it will take me as long as it does to update...**

**I went on a girls' weekend with my good friend last weekend - surviving three days without my laptop - and went to see U2. I can't describe my love for Bono, but, although he was the highlight, the whole weekend was fabulous. And it's been a long time since I stayed in the same room as another woman. It's so nice to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and not have to worry about falling in if you forget to check that the seat's down... and don't get me started on stepping in that little puddle they all seem to leave on the floor because even though they hang onto it, they still can't aim it.**

**Am I oversharing? :)**

**Windgirl810 did the beta work here and is amazing and awesome and... I can't think of another "A" adjective. It's early here. I love her and am constantly thankful that she's my friend.**

**Michelle0526 preread and kept the harassing distractions at bay... mostly. It only takes one shiny object...**

**My dear friend, Nic, sends readers my way constantly and is probably wondering why the hell I didn't post this yesterday like I said I would. I forgot we had baseball and a dance meeting... and then I fell asleep sitting up. I owe ya, Nic... :)**

**I don't own Twilight, but I do own Barward... and he's got some 'splaining to do.**

**Thanks so much for reading - please review!**

* * *

**EPOV**

Leaving my face buried in Bella's neck, I try to think of a good way to explain what I just said. Several seconds tick by… I got nothing.

She grips my hair in her hands and tugs, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make me lift my head… forcing me to look at her.

"What the fuck did you just say?" she asks quietly, her voice sharp as steel.

I can't stop the soft laugh that erupts from my chest. I've heard her cuss, of course, but really only when she's drunk… or pissed off. Oh, shit.

She lowers her hands to my chest and shoves... this time it does hurt.

"Ouch. Fuck, ballerina," I say, pushing back onto my knees. I shove one hand into the top of my hair and watch as she sits up and scoots away to lean against the headboard, her feet on either side of my knees.

Even in the darkness of the room, I can see the anger sizzling in her eyes as she holds my gaze. I reach for her calves, sliding my fingers between her smooth skin and the cool sheets, then squeezing gently a couple of times.

Swallowing loudly, I try to think of something to say. She jerks her legs out of my grasp, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"So… you and Rose are playing a game… and I'm the… what? The pawn? The prize?" she asks calmly. But it's not a good calm. It's the kind of calm that comes right before the fucking shitstorm blows everything to hell.

"No, Bella. Please, baby, listen. Let me explain," I plead, hearing the panic in my own voice.

"All right, _baby_," she says snidely. "Talk your way out of this one."

I move to sit cross-legged, but don't scoot closer to her.

"Um, Rose made me promise – uh," I begin, stumbling over the words.

"I heard that part," she interrupts. "I want to know why… and why you agreed."

"Why?" I ask incredulously. I'm kind of surprised she'd have to ask that. "I know they told you when you first moved in next door that I haven't been... very respectful of women... not for a long time. Rose liked you – she didn't want me to treat you that way," I say. Yeah… that sounded pretty good, I think. And I should get bonus points because that's actually the truth.

"So why did you agree?" she asks, tilting her head slightly. It doesn't sound like she was impressed with what I just said.

"Have you met my sister?" I joke. Well, sort of. She _is_ fierce, but that's not the only reason I agreed to her rules – or maybe it is – but it's not the only reason I'm still sticking to my promise. Bella isn't laughing, so, shrugging, I continue. "Because I liked you, too. I didn't know if you would ever give me a shot, but if you did, I didn't want to fuck it up."

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"I didn't want it to be a spur of the moment thing that you'd regret in the morning," I explain. She's nodding.

"Wow," she says icily. "What enormous egos both of you have. So I get no credit here? You don't think there's a chance that I wouldn't have let you talk me out of my clothes?"

"Ballerina, I would have. It's what I _do_," I say, then realizing what I said, I quickly backpedal. "Did! Fuck. Did… not do."

She huffs out one chuckle at that statement and shakes her head, and even though I know I'm still in trouble, that's enough to make me feel a little better.

"So Rose thinks – and you agree – that I'm not capable of deciding when I want to have sex?"

"No… ballerina. It's not like that. She… she was protecting you from me," I say urgently. Then, like it always does around her, the fucking truth comes spilling out. "But it really isn't about her anymore… it's me. I'm trying to do this the right way with you."

"Sex? You're trying to do sex right with me?" she asks sarcastically.

"No. Yes... but no," I say with a sigh. I'm not explaining myself well – that always seems to happen around her, too. "I'm trying to do the relationship right... not skip all the steps."

"But you didn't tell me," she says, still glaring at me.

"I didn't think it was exactly a subject for a first or second date conversation. I would have told you... would have talked to you about it," I reply, hoping I sound sincere. I _am_ fucking sincere.

She looks down at her knees and is quiet for a minute. I don't know if that's good or bad, so I swallow nervously and wait.

"How do you think it makes me feel that you screwed all those girls before and now you won't have sex with me?" she finally whispers.

"I don't know how it makes you feel. I _hope_ it makes you feel like you're different to me," I say. Christ. I've never had a conversation this intense and emotional with a woman without trying to run away.

"Different like a freak?" she asks, her voice still hushed. Shit. It sounds like her feelings are hurt.

"No, Bella," I answer softly, but my tone is firm. She lifts her chin a little, her huge, brown eyes looking at me again from under her brow. "Different like... sex with them didn't mean anything to me. It fucking does with you."

"It makes me feel like you wanted them more than you want me," she says, dropping her eyes to her knees again and sniffling.

Oh, Jesus. This is the shit girls come up with? Instantaneously, I'm frustrated that she doesn't understand how I feel about her... and I feel guilty for the way I've acted with girls in the past.

"That's fucking ridiculous, ballerina," I insist, using my arms to push myself closer to her and wishing she would let me touch her. I don't try though... not yet. "I want you so fucking much that I can't stop thinking about it… can't stop thinking about you. But I want more than that with you."

Since she didn't recoil, I think it might finally be safe to scoot closer. I shift around to sit next to her, leaning back against the headboard, my arm resting lightly against hers.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry for telling you the way I did. I honestly didn't think it would come up tonight," I explain, turning my head to look at her.

Again, she chuckles. Her hair is hanging down, blocking my view of her face. I'd like to pull it back so I can see her, but I'm afraid she might pull away then.

"You know what I mean," I say, nudging her arm with my elbow. "I think it should be _our_ decision, Bella. I think we should talk about it... but I don't think we should decide in the middle of the fucking night once we're already... aroused. You know?"

"That's the best thing you've said since this whole conversation started," she says, looking over at me at last. Her face is serious, but she doesn't look as mad as she did a few minutes ago. Lowering her eyes again, she sighs loudly and scoots to the other side of the bed, farther away than she started when we first got in bed a couple of hours ago. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Want me to go sleep on the couch?" I ask quietly.

"No, that's stupid. We're adults," she answers. She doesn't look at me though, busying herself getting the covers straightened back out. She looks fucking good in my bed. Jesus, I can't wait to really roll around in the goddamned sheets with her.

"Yeah, but one of has trouble keeping her hands to herself," I tease, hoping it's safe to lighten things up now.

She looks at me then, raising one eyebrow and smirking a little like she's trying not to laugh. At least she doesn't look more pissed off.

"You're not gonna have to worry about that again tonight, barman," she says coolly as she lies down on the far side of the bed with her back to me.

I lie down, too... facing her, scooting as far as I can toward the middle without encroaching on her side.

"Are you breaking up with me?" I ask softly.

"Am I what?" she asks, sounding surprised as she peeks over her shoulder at me.

"Breaking up with me," I repeat.

"No," she says, drawing the word out and rolling over to face me. "Are you going to break up with me the first time you get mad at me?"

I smile slightly. "Nnn-oooo," I say, repeating the way she said it. "Shit, ballerina. I don't know anything about relationships. I haven't been in one in six years."

"None at all?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.

"None that lasted more than a couple of days. None with... conversations and dates and sleepovers," I say, smiling at her.

"Hmm," she says. Her eyes slide closed and she's smirking slightly again.

"Are you still mad?" I whisper.

"Yes," she whispers back, her smirk breaking into more of a smile, but she rolls her lips together a second later to contain it.

"How mad?" I ask. I'm probably pushing my luck, but I can't make myself shut up.

"Shhh. Go to sleep, Edward," she says softly.

I sigh, but I quit talking like she asked, thinking of the irony of this situation. The first time in six years that I ask a woman to come home with me, she wants to have sex and I don't. Well, I _do_, but I don't.

I close my eyes and start to drift back to sleep, wondering how she'll surprise me next. The first time she stayed here she said my name in her sleep. Tonight... Jesus, if she gropes me like that again, there's no way I'll be able to stop. Just as I'm about to fall asleep, I feel her scoot a little closer to me and then I feel one finger trace lightly across my lower lip.

She pulls her finger away and sighs deeply. I don't open my eyes, but my lips curl up slightly into a smile. Surprise.

* * *

In the morning, I wake up first and shower, pulling on jeans before I leave the bathroom. I think Bella's still sleeping as I walk into the closet to get a t-shirt, until I hear her voice behind me.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo," she says, still sounding groggy.

I stop in the doorway and turn slowly, trying to be prepared for what I see. Fuck. It's worse than I thought. She's sitting up, the covers tangled around her feet, with her knees bent and her arms loosely draped around them. Her face is slightly flushed, her hair tousled. She's smiling shyly at me and I see the familiar pink tint flood her cheeks as she blushes under my gaze.

She's so fucking sexy and adorable all at the same time. I can't stop myself from walking over to her... I also can't stop myself from noticing that the way she's sitting… my boxers are loose around her thighs and I can see all the way up them. She's wearing black underwear... or maybe dark blue. All I want to do is run my hands up those long-ass legs of hers and pull them off. But I don't... I won't... yet.

"Morning, ballerina," I say, leaning down to kiss her. She slaps a hand over her mouth just before my lips touch hers.

"Mrng brf," she mumbles behind her hand.

"I don't fucking care. Move your hand," I say, laughing. She lowers it and lets me kiss her once, with her lips clamped shut, before she pulls away.

"Do I have time to shower?" she asks, swinging her legs over the side of the bed to stand up.

"Sure," I answer, then frown when she turns away from me. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Making the bed. What does it look like I'm doing?" she asks, looking over her shoulder at me as she bends over the bed, smoothing her hands across the sheets.

Fucking teasing me, I think, but I'm not stupid enough to say it out loud for once. The way she's bent over and the way she's got my boxers rolled up around her waist give me a great view of her legs. Every time she moves, I can see the definition in her calves... the deep indentations on her outer thighs. I also get another glimpse of the underwear... they're definitely black – and lacy.

"Jesus, Bella, you don't have to do that," I finally say, hoping it's only taken a few seconds and not several minutes for me to respond. I really couldn't say for sure though.

I walk around to the other side of the bed, mimicking her movements. This shit feels way too domestic... it should freak me the fuck out. It doesn't – but _that_ freaks me the fuck out.

Panicking slightly, I finish my side without waiting for her then step back to look at her. Damn. The view from the front is even better. She's smiling slightly, she repeatedly tosses her messy hair over her shoulder and when she looks up at me, her eyes are warm and shining.

There goes my panic. I swallow and then smile back at her.

"What?" I ask when she continues looking at me.

"You really cuss a lot," she observes bemusedly.

"Thanks for the update," I reply, making her laugh. "Fuck. I mean, Jesus, I can try to tone it down if it bugs you."

She shrugs one shoulder as she smoothes the comforter once more and then pulls at the bottom of the boxer shorts, tugging them down an inch or so.

"It doesn't bother me, I guess," she says unconvincingly.

"I'll try to watch my language, all right? I'm not gonna fuck- _freaking _promise any miracles or anything though. I've been talking this way a long time," I grumble, smiling when she chuckles at my slip-up.

"Thanks, Edward," she says. I see her eyes skim quickly down to my bare chest and then back up to my face.

"Am I still in trouble?" I ask, trying to look remorseful. I feel it… I'm just not sure if I look it. I do my best impression of the sad-eye look Rose gives my dad when she's in trouble.

I guess I look fucking stupid because Bella laughs out loud at me. Her persistent giggles make it impossible for me to keep making the sad face.

"Oh, Edward, you have no idea how much trouble you're still in," she manages to say between gaspy breaths.

As I watch her turn to walk into the bathroom, I wish she wasn't still mad at me because I really want to hug her… I wish I hadn't made that promise because I really want to follow her into the shower. Groaning quietly as she shuts the door, I have to disagree with what she just said: I think I know exactly how much trouble I'm in.

* * *

When we get to the bar, I park next to Bella's studio door. She gets out immediately, wearing her dress from last night but carrying her shoes and stockings. I definitely want to see her in those again sometime.

"I'm changing before I come over. Don't warn Rosalie," she says over her shoulder as she unlocks her studio door. I know she's still mad at me, too, but she's thawing out. She agreed to go eat lunch with me in a couple of hours and talk.

After she walks inside the studio, I lean against my car for a minute and briefly consider going back home. In twenty minutes or less, one of these women is going to be mad at me. Well, madd_er_ if it's Bella.

Jesus Christ. Women.

Reluctantly, I walk across the parking lot to the bar and go in. I know Rose and Emmett are here, but when I get inside, it's quiet. The final cash register receipt for last night is laying on top of the bar, so I pick it up to look over the totals. They're good. We'll make money, which is not always a given when I have to pay a band, too.

"Well, well, well... there's the guy who disappeared so early last night," Emmett says, coming out of the back room carrying a box full of liquor bottles.

"It wasn't that early," I say, defending myself already. I think I'll be doing a lot of that today. "It was after midnight when we left."

"We?" he asks, feigning ignorance as he walks behind the bar. I continue studying the paper in my hand, refusing to look at him. "Oh, yes. I noticed that Tiny disappeared at the same time," he taunts, setting the box down on top of the bar in between us. Propping his forearms on top of the box, he leans across the bar to talk to me quietly. "I need to know if you broke your promise to Rosalie. Lauren and I have a bet."

"It's none of your business, dickhead," I answer testily.

"Look at me," he orders, smirking slightly when I do. "Nope, you didn't. You still look too tense."

"Maybe I'm tense for another reason," I sneer, walking behind the bar to fix myself a soda.

"Maybe... but you don't look like a guy who's recently been laid by the girl he's been hot for since August," he says. "Hold out as long as you can, okay? I've got the over and Lauren set the date at Thanksgiving."

"Jesus fucking Christ, you asshole," I say, raising my voice at him. I know that neither Lauren nor Emmett – or Rose for that matter – know what Thanksgiving means to Bella, but it pisses me off anyway.

Emmett is facing away from me now, restocking the back bar with full bottles and chuckling. Rose comes out of the kitchen carrying the garnish station, smiling, making me feel guilty all over again for the smackdown that I know is coming.

"Hey. Where did you and Bella disappear to last night?" she asks.

Before I have a chance to answer, the side door opens and Bella walks in, her face set, her eyes sliding my way for just a second before she fixes her stare on Rosalie.

"Hi, Bella," Rose says cheerfully. I don't feel sorry for my sister very often, but I want to jump in front of her right now and take all the blame. Bella looks just as mad as she did last night.

"Rosalie, we need to talk. Here or at my place?" she asks. Rose looks shocked at Bella's terse tone, but suggests they go to a booth in the back, out of sight of where Emmett and I are standing.

Bella takes off at a quick pace, not sparing me another glance. Rose looks questioningly at me – I half-smile empathetically at her as she walks past me to follow Bella. I know exactly what she's in for.

"Dude, do I need to ask what she's pissed about?" Emmett asks quietly, moving to stand next to me behind the bar.

"Probably not," I answer with a sigh.

Emmett chuckles quietly as he shakes his head at me. "Now they'll both be pissed at you. Want a shot?"

"No. I'm taking Bella to lunch later. We have to talk, too," I say, raising my hand to drag through my hair a couple of times. "Jesus, this is exactly why I never date. It was much easier to just get what I wanted and go home alone."

"Right," he says flatly, drumming his fingers on top of the bar.

"Right," I agree, nodding.

"So, you want to give up Bella and go back to whatever you had with Kate... or the redhead you let hang around last spring... or what's-her-name who came in all summer hoping you'd notice her? Didn't you end up screwing her in her car or some shit?" he asks sharply.

Fuck. Now I feel sick.

"Thanks, Em. I wasn't already feeling shitty enough," I remark acerbically.

"I have a point here, E," he says, turning sideways to face me. When I glance at him, his arms are crossed over his chest and he looks mad… at me. Jesus. I can't win today.

"Don't keep me in suspense," I mumble, turning to face him. I copy his stance, willing to play the pissed-off tough guy game, too.

"You and I used to close down the damn bar every night, working or not. Now on my nights off, I'd rather hang out at home with Rose. You're finally with someone you really care about, too," he insists. Un-fucking-necessarily. I already know I care about her. "You don't want to go back to those other girls for real... do you?"

"No," I grumble, dropping my eyes and losing the tough guy game. "I want Bella."

"That's what I thought," he replies smugly, smacking my shoulder painfully before he turns to finish arranging the liquor bottles on the back bar. "But really, dude. _After_ Thanksgiving, ok?"

He grunts lowly and then chuckles when I elbow him in the back as I pass him.

* * *

**BPOV**

"Bella, what's wrong?" Rose asks with a frown as she slides in the other side of the booth. Her blue eyes are darkened with concern.

"Who the hell do you think you are? My protector? My defender? My mother?" I ask sharply, answering her question with one of my own.

"No," she answers, her tone hesitant. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, thanks to you. Your brother won't touch me with a ten-foot pole because you made him promise not to," I say angrily.

"Please tell me you didn't believe him when he said it was ten feet long," she jokes, laughing until she sees that I'm not joining in. "Oh, come on, Bella. That was funny."

"Rosalie, I can honestly say that nothing about this is funny to me right now," I reply, feeling like I could burst into tears at any second. "I'm pissed. I'm hurt. I feel like an idiot. I am not amused or entertained by the way you and Edward have teamed up to run my sex life."

She sighs and looks pleadingly at me. "I'm sorry. It was necessary. I'm not sure if you recognized the way he was looking at you two months ago, but I sure did."

"Fine," I say curtly. "That's the past. Let him out of the promise now."

Rose looks down at the table where her hands are clasped before slowly looking back up at me.

She shakes her head slowly, her face serious. "I'm sorry. I can't do that," she whispers.

"Oh, my God, Rosalie," I exclaim loudly before lowering my volume and leaning across the table toward her. "After all the... _lessons_... I've given you, you won't do this for me? You won't let Edward and me make up our own minds?"

"Bella, if you let him make up his own mind right now, he'll have you flat on your back in your office in five minutes," she says intently, leaning across the table toward me, too.

"So what? Why is it your business?" I hiss, anger flashing through me again.

She inhales loudly and sits back, leveling her steel blue eyes at me. "It's not really... but I love him and I want what's best for him. And, believe it or not, I love you, too."

"So you're substituting your judgment for mine," I seethe, ignoring her heartfelt declaration for the moment. I can't get sidetracked now.

"I guess I am. And I know that's crappy of me... I know I'm a shitty friend. That's probably why I don't have many," she says, laughing humorlessly.

Still fuming, I stare at her and she calmly stares back, neither of us talking for a minute.

"Look, Bella, we haven't traded a lot of stories from our pasts," she remarks quietly. "You probably don't know that I used to be the same way Edward was – before he met you. Sex didn't mean anything to me. You know who taught me different?"

I shake my head. I can probably guess who, but this is her story.

"Emmett," she confirms, smiling softly. "He taught me to respect myself… and to respect our relationship enough not to rush through the beginning just to get to the sex. Because you can't go back. This is a really great time in your relationship – the beginning, the learning."

"We've done some of that," I reply.

"No you haven't," she insists, dismissing my argument. "You guys have dated for one week. You have a really good thing going here... don't get so busy getting to the next stage that you don't enjoy the stage you're in. You know how long Emmett and I waited?"

"Two days?" I ask, snark plainly evident in my tone.

She smirks slightly at me. "No, smartass. Four and a half months... and that was after we'd been friends for over a year. And you know what? I wouldn't change it. Because when we finally slept together, we were ready physically and emotionally. I knew how he felt about me and vice versa."

Holy hell. She sounds like a mother… not _my_ mother, but a mother.

"Lift the ban," I say through gritted teeth, trying again. Even though Edward told me last night that he feels _we _should make the decision, I don't want Rosalie to think that our decision has anything to do with her. I don't want her thinking she has any control over our relationship.

"No," she answers quietly again.

My eyes fill with tears. "Why are you doing this to me?" I whisper.

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, too, when she answers. "I'm trying to be a good friend. Trying to watch out for you... and him. I think you guys could have something really good. I just want you both to have the full experience."

My mouth is gaping open a little. This is not how I expected our conversation to go at all. My feelings are still hurt – I'm still pissed – but I think that Rose and I are eventually going to be really close friends.

"So, we're back to the part where Rose knows best?" I ask spitefully, pushing away my tender-hearted feelings of a second ago. "Are you going to constantly insert yourself in my relationship with Edward? Because if you are, I need to get out of it now." Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I slide toward the edge of the seat.

"Bella...," she pleads when she realizes I'm getting up.

"I don't have anything else to say to you, Rose," I say flatly, standing up.

Her eyes are filled with tears again and she reaches for my wrist, grasping it in her hand.

"Please, Bella. Try to understand... wouldn't you do the same if you saw Alice – or maybe even me – rushing into something?" she asks. A perfect, round teardrop hovers on her lower eyelashes, then finally slides in a perfect, straight line down her cheek.

Yes.

"No," I lie.

"It changes everything when you take that step, Bella," she asserts, cutting me to the quick with her expressive blue eyes. "And if you wait until it's the right time, it will make you two closer, make everything even better. It adds to the relationship instead of becoming the relationship."

I pull my arm away and she lets go easily, tears now streaking swiftly down her face. Jesus, I can't believe Rosalie cries. She works so hard at maintaining her tough outer shell that I never imagined I'd get past it this fast.

"I have to go," I mumble, trying to guard my own emotions as I walk away from the table.

"Ballerina?" Edward asks cautiously as I pass by the front of the bar. I don't turn to look at him, but I can see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye.

Shaking my head briskly twice, I answer him. "No... no. Don't. I don't want to talk to any of you right now," I say, my voice cracking at the end. These people… and this place… have become such a big part of my life that my heart twists painfully as I walk out the door.

* * *

I walk straight back to my studio, locking the door behind me. I don't feel like going home to wallow, so I call Alice, hoping she's not busy.

"Bella! Spill it, sister. I want the deets," she chirps when she picks up the phone.

"There are no deets," I say, sniffling.

"What? He asked you to go home with him!" she says. I hold the phone away from my ear – her voice is quickly climbing into the screech zone.

"Can I come over?" I ask.

She offers to come and get me immediately and arrives ten minutes later.

As soon as I'm in her car, she interrogates me. I tell her what happened last night – all of it – and cringe when she giggles, looking over at me.

"Why would Rose think she'd get away with something like that?" she laughs.

"I don't know," I mutter, shrugging my shoulders and tilting my head back against the headrest, looking up. Frowning, I swivel my head back and forth trying to figure out what the spot on the headliner is.

"I know someone else who thought she'd get away with it once," Alice says dryly.

"Me?" I ask disbelievingly, snapping my head back down and turning toward her. "I never imposed a random sex ban."

"You're right. You imposed a random groping ban," Alice laughs. She doesn't turn her head, but I see her eyes slide toward me briefly.

"One night! It was one night! And you were too drunk to make a decision about Jasper that night," I insist, adamantly defending my actions.

"Mmhmm, so _you_ decided. And you scared Jasper so badly that he didn't try to touch me again for two months!" she cries.

"You never told me that," I reply quietly, studying her amused profile.

"You always said you didn't want to hear it," she shrugs. "There wasn't anything to hear, but you wouldn't even listen to that."

"But then you started telling me _everything_," I whine, chuckling, too.

"When he finally quit looking over his shoulder long enough to get down to business, yes. You're damn right I did," she says, then punctuates her comment with a satisfied sigh. Jeez.

Hmm. Guess I'm a hypocrite again. God, were the Cullens put on this earth just to point out my faults? Oh, there's another one. Assuming that other people were created just to teach me a lesson makes me the owner of my own massive ego. Edward and Rosalie aren't the only ones suffering from over importance. I sigh… but _I'm _not satisfied.

"Now don't be a downer," Alice scolds lightly. "Jasper's making us breakfast. Let's eat and talk about the groping again because, seriously? These are some great times you have ahead of you, Bella Swan."

I roll my eyes, but I take the hand she reaches out toward me.

"Love you lots," she says, squeezing my hand.

"Love you lots, too," I reply, squeezing back.

* * *

Three hours later, Jasper and Alice drop me off at the pizzeria where I agreed to meet Edward.

"Thanks for the ride," I say as I get out in the parking lot.

"Don't be too hard on him, Bella," Alice says, turning around to look at me.

"Okay, Mom. I'll be home by dark, too," I tease.

"He's a good guy, Bella," Jasper chimes in.

Before I shut the door, I lean in to reply. "I know… I know." And I do.

Inside, Edward is sitting in a booth, waiting for me. The booth behind my side is empty, but the booth behind his side holds a family – mom, dad, and three kids.

After I slide in my side and we both say hello, we spend a few silent minutes studying the menu.

"So… half meat with extra meat and half veggie?" he asks, smiling at me.

I narrow one eye and look at him suspiciously.

Shrugging and looking sheepish, he explains. "Rose told me that's what you like – the veggie, I mean."

I nod. Damn. Another point in Rosalie's favor. Even when she knows I'm mad at her, she's supportive of my relationship with her brother. I hate it when I feel petty.

Our waitress is young and pretty… and flirty. Edward doesn't seem to notice. Once he's ordered for us, I pick up the menus from the table to hand them back to her, dismissing her. That doesn't please her… she'll probably spit on my half.

After she walks away, Edward sighs and props his elbows on the table.

"So, Bella, you know I think we should wait… not have sex yet," he starts.

"Edward!" I hiss, leaning across the table toward him to speak quietly. "There are little kids sitting behind you."

He turns to look, then turns back around chuckling and turning slightly red. The man's back is to us, but his shoulders are shaking like he's laughing. Thank goodness I can't see his face... I know mine is turning red.

"Uh, what I meant to say was, you know how I feel about… candy. I think we should wait to have the candy," Edward says, laughing when I cover my face with my hands and giggle.

It takes a minute for me to regain my composure enough to lower my hands, but when I do, he's still staring at me… smiling at me.

"Yes, Edward, I think you were clear on your feelings about candy," I say, biting the inside of my cheek to try and control the laughter. "I just don't see the point in waiting for the candy."

That's not true anymore. After I spent the morning listening to Rose and then Alice, I began to see the potential benefit in waiting a little longer... in getting to know each other better… letting things develop at a slower pace. But I want to know that this is truly how Edward feels. I didn't look at him long enough last night to judge his sincerity.

"The candy will be there. We don't have to rush," he says, leaning forward slightly and fixing his bright green gaze on me.

"I'm wondering though… I just… I want to know why you don't _want_ the candy," I say, dropping my eyes to the table in front of me.

"Ballerina," he says insistently, waiting until I raise my eyes to continue, "I _want_ the candy."

His gaze is intense as he stares at me. When he reaches one hand across the table toward me, I put my hand in it without hesitation.

"Are you afraid the candy won't be good?" I ask nervously, biting my lip.

Edward shakes his head, reaching his other hand across the table and cradling my hand in both of his. "I think the candy will be the best fu- freaking candy I've ever had. But I want to feel like I've... earned the candy." He's looking at me seriously again and squeezing my fingers lightly.

I spike an eyebrow. "You want to pay for the candy?" I ask. I don't think that's what he means, but I want to be sure.

"No! No, I want to deserve the candy." He's studying me intently again. "What about you, Bella? Do you want to wait?"

"Twelve hours ago, I didn't," I start, looking down for a minute before lifting my eyes back up to his. "But now? Yeah, I'm glad we didn't have… _candy_ last night. I don't think I'm ready."

I sigh, hating to admit that although I felt physically ready last night, I want to feel more connected to him emotionally before we take that step. But he smiles at me as if he suspected that already and he nods like it's okay with him. That makes me sigh again.

"So… candy later?" I ask, butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. Jesus, I hope he doesn't say "No, thank you".

"Yeah, ballerina. Definitely candy later," he says, his voice dropping down even lower until he almost sounds like he's growling. Under the table, he slides his feet forward and traps one of my legs between his. At the same time, he scratches his thumbnail slowly back and forth across my palm, tickling me… sending tingles of desire coursing through my body.

Our waitress arrives with drinks and plates then, eyeing Edward a little longer than she should as she sets everything down in front of us.

I start to roll my eyes, then think better of it. I guess I'll have to get used to Edward getting this kind of attention if we are going to be a couple. A couple who will eat at restaurants… go to the movies… shop in the art district… and eventually have candy.

Crazy-good candy.

That thought makes me giggle quietly. Edward smiles back at me even though our waitress is leaning way over the table as she sets Edward's drink down, her v-neck t-shirt gaping so that Edward could see right down her shirt if he was looking… but he's not. He's still looking at me. Once the waitress walks away, swinging her hips exaggeratedly even though Edward's not watching, I want to get one other point straight with him.

"This… waiting… has nothing to do with your sister trying to shut down the candy store?" I ask, serious but smiling as I lean across the table to talk quietly.

He chuckles, but answers right away. "Not anymore," he says, his eyes shining. He tightens his legs around mine for a second under the table. "I mean, yeah, at first. She's fucking mean, you know?"

I look sternly across the table at him, having to bite the inside of my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Jesus, he's so fucking cute. Jesus, I'm starting to sound like him.

"What?" he asks, frowning back at me.

"Language, Edward," I reply, then laugh when his face settles into his trademark smirk.

Behind him, the family is getting up from their booth. Mr. Eavesdropper tosses some money down on the table top as his family heads toward the door. He starts to walk away, then turns and walks back toward us, stopping at the edge of our booth.

"You know," he says capturing both of our attention immediately. Edward and I both look up at him expectantly. "They have these little mini candy bars… fun size. They're pretty good at giving you a taste before you have… the full-size candy."

Embarrassed, I drop my head down toward the table, not raising it again until Edward laughingly tells me the man is gone. When I look at him, his cheeks are flushed, too, but he looks happy.

"So… fun size?" he asks, linking our fingers together.

Nodding my head and laughing again, I agree. "Fun size."

* * *

For the next few days, Edward is so busy that we barely see each other. Even though the Halloween party is over, Halloween is not. He says he doesn't know if it's because his bar is called Full Moon or if people are just always crazy around Halloween, but the bar is packed every night until Thursday, which is actually Halloween night.

Each night, I go over to the bar before my classes and I go back after classes are over, but Edward has to close every night, so I'm asleep by the time he gets off work. We don't have much time alone, but we make out in his office or mine every night for a few stolen minutes. There is absolutely no groping though.

Dammit.

And Rose, even though I'm not really talking to her, speaks to me every time she sees me. Luckily, she only works two nights this week, so I don't see her very much. I know that I _will_ forgive her, but first I want her to understand that I'm not the pushover that she seems to believe I am.

Finally, it's Friday night and Edward's not working. He picks me up for dinner and takes me to a great Italian restaurant where we eat leisurely by candlelight. He orders us after-dinner liquers when we're finished eating and we spend another hour talking at our table while we sip the licorice-flavored drinks.

By the time we leave the restaurant, it's too late to see an early movie and I'm too tired to see a late movie. There's nothing playing that I want to see anyway. When I suggest watching a movie at my apartment instead, he agrees – smirking like he knows that I'm hoping for more than just kissing once we're alone.

When we get inside my place, Edward opens a bottle of wine for us while I go to change. I wore a black wrap dress and boots to dinner, but want to be more comfortable now.

A few minutes later, I walk back into the living room wearing gray yoga pants and a black tank top and cardigan. Edward smiles at me when I sit down beside him and take the wineglass he offers me.

We spend the next few minutes talking before we finally settle on a movie to watch. We're only about five minutes into the film when he pulls me close to kiss me. Sighing, I twine my arms around his neck as he strokes his tongue lazily against mine. After several minutes, I pull on him as I lean back and he follows easily, shifting us until we're lying side-by-side on the couch. His hands roam all the safe zones, grazing the side of my breast a few times without stopping to really touch me.

Suddenly, gunfire erupts in the movie and Edward pulls away from my mouth and lifts his head to look at the TV. He keeps his hands on me, but his eyes on the screen for the next couple of minutes.

Shaking my head in amusement, I lower my arms from around his neck and roll over to watch the movie, content to be held in Edward's arms while he indulges his inner fourteen-year-old boy. Tightening the arm he has around my waist, he pulls me tightly against him so my back is pressed to his front. He leaves his hand on my stomach, eventually sliding it up under my tank top to rest skin-on-skin.

For the next fifteen minutes, the movie consists of bad acting, car chases and unrealistic gun battles, but Edward seems to be watching intently as he glides his fingers distractedly back and forth across my abdomen, tickling me lightly. I snuggle back a little farther into his chest and sigh contentedly, despite the awful film.

As I press myself closer to him, he lowers his face to my neck, kissing me through the strands of hair resting there, and his hand wanders upward slightly to rest right under my breasts.

"Ballerina, this movie sucks," he murmurs against my ear. "Let's make out instead." My heart rate spikes – and I'm internally grateful that he doesn't think the movie is good, either.

"What? I like the movie," I tease, trying to sound serious, but I feel his chest rumble behind me as he laughs.

"Liar," he accuses, removing his hand from my stomach and lifting it up to gather my hair out of his way.

Once he has unfettered access to my neck, he settles his mouth again, kissing and licking his way from my ear down toward my shoulder at the same time he slides his hand back up my shirt, sliding up to cup my breast immediately this time. I shiver involuntarily as a jolt of desire shoots down my spine.

Inhaling sharply, I arch into his touch, pushing my hips back against his at the same time. He grunts quietly against my skin and uses his index finger to circle my hardened nipple through the lace of my bra. Reaching up behind me, I bury my hand in the top of Edward's hair, gripping lightly, and then gasp quietly when he pulls the cup of my bra down and captures my nipple with his warm fingers. Sighing at the touch of his hand on my bare skin, I close my eyes and enjoy the tingling sensations racing across my skin… the fire rushing through my blood.

Letting go of his hair, I start to turn over to face him, but he stops me when I'm on my back, putting his mouth on mine and sliding his top leg in between mine. As he glides his tongue along my lower lip, he reaches for the front clasp of my bra and flicks it open… just like I hoped he would when I got dressed tonight. After pushing the lacy scrap of material out of the way, he spends several minutes caressing me, giving equal attention on each side.

By the time he begins slowly inching the fabric of my tank top up to uncover me, I'm squirming with anticipation. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and try to pull him on top of me, but he resists, drawing his mouth away from mine to slide down my neck.

I feel him scoot a little lower beside me, but leave my eyes shut… until I feel the chill of the air on my bare chest when my shirt is pushed all the way up. Raising my head up slightly, I open my eyes to see him looking at what he's uncovered. His eyes snap up to mine and he smiles slightly at me.

"You're gorgeous, Bella," he says softly, his darkened gaze staying locked with mine as he squeezes my right breast gently. Before I can respond, he lowers his eyes and his mouth to my chest again, closing his lips around my left breast and sucking slowly.

"Oh, God, Edward," I moan as he continues to pull on me, alternating the suction with deliberate, swirling strokes of his tongue across my nipple. Burying both hands in his hair, I hold him to me, only letting him move when he releases my left breast and moves to the right.

The delicious torture goes on for several minutes, and then he finally pushes up to put his lips on mine again. As our tongues tangle together once more, I lift my hips… seeking… and Edward places his thigh more firmly between my legs, letting me press myself against him as I whimper quietly.

"Jesus, ballerina, I want to touch you," he breathes into my mouth.

"I want you to," I pant, granting the permission that I understand he wants before we go farther.

He immediately moves the hand he still had on my chest to slide down my side and the outside of my hip and then curve around to cup my behind, guiding me gently as I rock myself against his leg again.

"Fuck, Bella," he says hoarsely, pulling my hips against his leg roughly and pushing his thigh right up against me. Suddenly, his leg is gone and I feel his hand glide across my stomach and down the front of my pants.

I gasp sharply and open my eyes to find him looking at me… watching me. As he uses his index finger to slowly circle my clit, my eyes begin to slide closed on their own.

"Look at me, baby," he says softly, lowering his lips to mine for a brief instant before he raises back up enough to see my face. I do as he asks, even though I'm a little embarrassed. My hips jerk against his fingers as he finally touches me and I can't stop the low moan that escapes my lips.

"Edward… Edward," I whisper.

Smiling slightly at me, he lowers his mouth to mine again, closing his eyes and grunting into my mouth when I dig my nails into his shoulders. Finally, he pushes a finger inside me, going slowly, giving me time to adjust.

When he finally begins to move his fingers on me – in me – I wrench my mouth away from his, trying to catch my breath. He shifts his mouth to my neck, never slowing his fingers. It doesn't take long for me to be on the edge of what I'm sure will be the greatest pleasure I've ever had… it's so close… and then it's gone.

What happened? It was so close I could practically touch it and then… poof?

Edward raises his head to look at me, stilling his fingers and then smiling again as he bends down to kiss me.

"Relax, ballerina," he says, nibbling and licking at my lips for a minute until I respond to him, gripping his shirt with my fingers. Despite our awkward position, I try to slide my hand down his chest from his shoulder, but I can't get past his arm. I huff in frustration. "What, baby?" he asks, retreating from my mouth to study me.

"I want to touch you, too," I whisper, forcing myself to look at him.

Groaning quietly, he leans over my chest, lowering his forehead to the swell of my breasts.

"You're gonna fucking kill me," he says gruffly, but he gently removes his hand from me and shifts our arms around so that I can reach him. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans and guides my hand down to him, covering my hand with his when I wrap my fingers around him.

I see him looking down, but I'm not feeling _that_ brave, so I close my eyes, but smirk a little when I hear him inhale sharply. He keeps his hand over mine for a minute, teaching me how he likes to be touched, helping me find the right rhythm.

Releasing my hand after a moment, he glides his hand up my inner thigh, grazing the spots aching for his touch. When he slips his hand inside my pants again, I bite my bottom lip and lift my hips toward his touch. This time when I feel the pressure rising, I try to stay relaxed and ride it out while continuing to stroke him, too. As I get closer, I feel my lips part and drop open, my hips rock faster against his touch…until the pleasure shoots through me, radiating out from my spine in wave after wave.

"Oh, God, Edward," I gasp. "Oh, my God." Arching my back, I cry out one more time, then Edward's hips jerk and I feel the warm rush of liquid coat my hand as he groans loudly.

"Bella… Bella… Jesus," he says, leaning in to kiss me, slowly pulling his hand away from me and grabbing my hand from him. "Sorry, baby. Just wipe that on me." He rubs my hand across the untucked tail of his shirt.

"It's okay," I sigh dreamily, smiling at him. I'm so happy that I made Edward come that I could care less that he did it all over my hand… and my side. "Can we do that again?"

He laughs, sliding his arm around me and pulling me close.

"Definitely," he replies, kissing the top of my head. "I just need to recover first."

"From the fun size candy?" I ask cheekily, giddy and sated at the same time. Smiling when I hear him laugh, I pull away a bit so I can look up at him, and then stretch toward him to kiss him. "Stay here tonight?" I murmur.

"Yeah," he answers, smiling against my lips.

After we both clean up, we snuggle into my bed. Edward's wearing his boxers, which were luckily spared from any overflow, and the t-shirt he wore under his button-down shirt. I have on flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt. He gathers me close, kissing me goodnight, and it occurs to me that even though we've slept in the same bed before, this is the first time we've been like _this_ at bedtime.

Wrapped in his arms, I fall asleep quickly, but wake several times during the night. Every single time, even if we've moved around in the bed, Edward's hands are on me. If I try to scoot away, he either tightens his grip and pulls me back or follows me. When the room begins to lighten a bit with the sunrise, his hands - and lips - begin to roam to the good spots again, eventually resulting in a repeat performance of last night.

We kiss lazily even though we have morning breath... his isn't even bad. When he eventually curls up behind me to go back to sleep, he pushes his hand up my shirt to cup the underside of my breast, stroking his fingers across my skin slowly. As he drifts off, his movements slow and then he reflexively grips me in his sleep. I smile tiredly as he sighs into my hair.

I freaking love it... and I think I might also love him.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Knock, knock.**

**Who's there?**

**Jayhawkbb with a NHB update.**

**{Awkward pause}**

**Who's really there?**

**I swear it's me. I have no excuse except that the job I actually get paid for was ridiculously rough from May 1 - August 1. And then I was completely spent. I didn't write much at all. My other story updated because those chaps were mostly written. This... I kept trying to force. Then ten days ago, I threw almost the whole thing away and started over. **

**I'm super sorry. Let's get on with it, huh? :)**

**Thanks, as ever, to my fabulous beta Windgirl810. I love her more than my iphone... and I really, really love my iphone. I panic a little when that "20% of battery left" message comes on. **

**Michelle0526 pre-read and then pre-read again... and then once more because I begged. She's awesome. And hopefully she knows of my everlasting love for her.**

**Littlecat358 gives me advice when I ask for it, encouragement when I need it, and pep talks when I'm bitchy... which is a lot lately. And she's not mad at me for spamming her today. :) **

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**

* * *

Over the next few days, Edward and I spend a lot of time together, but he doesn't sleep over again. He has to work Saturday and Sunday nights, so we hang out during the day instead. We spend Saturday afternoon at his condo and I help him decide where to hang his copper sculpture. On Sunday, we go to lunch at the waterfront with his parents. Monday night after classes are over at the studio, I stop at the bar and he takes me upstairs to the storage area. Even though he tries to act cool, I can see the excitement in his eyes as he shows me the tentative drawings for the renovations starting this week. In a couple of months, the whole second floor of this building will be converted into a game room and additional bar area.

Then he shuts the door of the small storage area we're standing in so he can kiss me, long and slow, before I go home.

After classes on Wednesday night, I spend a few minutes straightening up the studio, wiping off the mirrors. I chuckle to myself thinking of the four-year old ballet class I taught in here tonight. They're so cute – and they love watching themselves in the mirror… and touching the mirror, and breathing on the mirror. Kneeling down, I spray and wipe the spot where two girls in pink tutus repeatedly practiced writing their names in the fog from their breath.

When I hear the side door creak open, I frown, wondering who's coming in. Since I told Edward I would stop by the bar, I doubt if it's him.

"Bella?" Rosalie calls.

Crap. It's been almost two weeks since our argument… almost two weeks since I found out that she unilaterally ordered a sex ban on my relationship with Edward. I haven't really spoken to her since… and I don't answer her now. I continue wiping the mirrors, even when I hear her footsteps stop in the doorway and see her image reflected in front of me. Although I wipe over her several times, neither she nor her reflection disappears.

"Bella?"

Sighing loudly, I stand and turn to face her. "Hi, Rose."

She's uncharacteristically timid, shifting her weight from side to side and looking everywhere except at me. "Um, I know you're still mad at me… but tomorrow is Emmett's birthday and I really don't want to screw this up," she says, her voice quiet and hesitant. Finally, she shifts her gaze to meet mine. "Will you help me rehearse? Please?"

I eye her warily for a minute and then nod slowly.

Surprise crosses her face before she smiles in relief. Really? She thought I'd say no? That makes me happy in a weird way; maybe she thinks I'm tougher than I actually am.

I'll do it because I like her and I think we'll get past this… eventually. But even if I didn't like her, I'd still do it because I'm the one who taught her the dance. I would never say no to a student who asked for help.

"Thanks, Bella."

I still have the playlist on my iPod, so I start it on the sound system while Rosalie takes off her jacket and lays it on the chair at the front of the room. Once the music starts, I sit in the chair and watch her, not able to stop the smile that spreads across my face. She does well, and Emmett will definitely like his present. When she's finished with the two songs Alice and I choreographed, she turns to look at me.

"So?" she asks, wrinkling her face up slightly as she waits for my evaluation.

"It was good. You just need a couple of pointers," I answer, standing up. I start the playlist over and stand beside her in the center of the room. We aren't even through the first song when she tries to start a conversation.

"You and Edward are spending a lot of time together," she remarks, meeting my eyes in the mirror for an instant before sliding hers away. She looks almost scared of me… I've never seen Rose display this lack of self-confidence before. She's usually a "I do what I want and I don't care what you think" kind of girl. It's one of the things I admire about her, although I wouldn't tell her that right now.

"I think that's what you're supposed to do when you date," I answer, purposefully using the same "duh" tone Alice uses with me when I make a comment about something that's obvious.

"He seems really happy, Bella. You're very good for him," she says, smiling slightly.

I stop dancing and turn to face her, resting my hands on either side of my waist and jutting one hip out to the side. "Are you trying to butter me up, Rose?" I ask coldly. "It won't work. The only way for me to stop being mad is if you take yourself out of the middle of this relationship."

"If either of you had any relationship experience, I would," she argues, facing me, too. "But you guys are both new to this. Just relax… get to know each other."

"Easy for you to say," I scoff, narrowing my eyes angrily. "You're shacking up every night with _your_ boyfriend!"

She crosses her arms over her chest and looks snottily at me. "Well, I happen to know that my brother didn't sleep at his condo the other night either," she retorts. "Luckily for you both, Edward's still being a dick to me, so I know there's no way he's getting laid."

"Our relationship is not about you!" I yell, mimicking her stance and glaring at her.

"You're exactly right. But _this_ relationship is partly about me," she answers angrily, waving one of her hands back and forth between us. "If you and Edward screw up your relationship, how the hell will we ever be sisters?"

My mouth drops open and I stare, flabbergasted, at Rosalie, all the fight draining out of me instantly. She sniffles twice, then stomps to the front of the room to get her jacket. Barely breathing, still unable to form coherent sentences from the jumbled words running through my head, I can only watch as she picks it up and rushes from the room.

After I hear the side door open and shut, I finally allow my knees to buckle and lower myself to the ground. Rose wants us to be… she wants Edward and me to…

Holy crap. I didn't know _that's_ where all this was coming from.

I know how I feel about Edward – know that I'm falling hard for him. But I'm not certain he feels the same. It's obvious that he _likes_ me… but Rose must think he's falling in love with me, too. And that knowledge makes me simultaneously elated and terrified.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I pull my legs into my chest and wrap my arms around them, dropping my forehead to rest on my knees. At times I worry that Edward will figure out I'm boring, or decide he doesn't want to be with me. I don't know anything about the girls he used to date, or what led to his six-year period of not dating at all. I think there was probably a girl involved in that somehow, but he hasn't told me yet.

Sighing, I twist my head from side to side against my knees, trying to rub away the throbbing in the middle of my forehead as I turn my thoughts to myself. Sometimes I feel like I don't know what I'm doing with Edward. I've never dated anyone seriously. I have no idea what it takes to make a lasting relationship work.

In a way, Rose is right. Edward and I _are_ new to this kind of relationship, but that doesn't mean we need her telling us what to do. We're figuring out what feels right to us… and I think we're doing okay so far. We're getting to know each other… growing closer. We see each other every day. We talk or text several times a day. I've never wanted to spend as much time with anyone as I want to spend with him.

So why the hell can't she just let us make our own decision?

My irritation flares again and I have the urge to go find her and tell her how I feel. I don't think that would be helpful in the long run though. I'll wait a day or two before I seek her out and have my say.

Rose's playlist is still going, now blaring AC/DC from the speakers, but I can hear the side door open again, followed by footsteps in the hall. Assuming it's her, I don't get up.

"Rockin' out, ballerina?" Edward calls from the hallway. I lift my head from my knees just as he appears in the doorway. "Bella? What's wrong?" He walks quickly to where I'm sitting and crouches down in front of me.

Launching myself into his arms, I hit him with so much force that he has to put one hand down on the floor behind him. He pulls me with him as he sits down, settling me sideways with both of my legs draped over one of his.

"What's going on?" he asks quietly.

"Your sister… I didn't know… she still won't…I don't know if," I say against his shoulder, my broken phrases uttered between stuttering breaths.

"Baby, I don't understand. Was Rose over here being mean to you?" he asks, holding me tightly with one arm and trailing his other hand soothingly up and down my leg.

"Nooooo," I cry. "I screamed at her… and I didn't know… and I'm still pissed, but now I know."

"Know what?"

"I can't talk about this with you," I whine, pulling back to look in his eyes. "It's just between Rose and me."

"Okay," he answers with a quiet chuckle. "I'm probably better off not knowing then. Are you all right?"

Sighing, considering… I slide my eyes away from his and then back. "Yeah," I nod, slightly surprised that I've calmed down so quickly. "Are you on a break?"

"Yep," he says, checking his watch. "Ten minutes left."

"So… we can make out for nine and a half?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Sounds good, ballerina," he answers, lowering his head to mine.

As I'm driving home twenty minutes later, I laugh out loud when I get a text from Edward.

***Best fucking break ever.**

* * *

"Is it lunchtime yet? I'm starving," Jessica complains.

"Nope. You've got another hour," I answer, glancing at the clock on my computer monitor.

"I'm bored. Why does Aro always give you the typing stuff?" she gripes. I don't answer, but I think it has something to do with the errors always present in her documents. He asked me to get this brief done today since I don't work tomorrow. He didn't want Jess finishing it up.

She stands up and rolls her desk chair in front of my desk, then drops into it with an exaggerated huff. "What's new with you, Bella? You give in and go out with Tyler yet?"

Smiling, I turn to look at her. She's nice and we're casual friends, but I haven't told her that I'm dating Edward… or that we made out for nine and half perfect minutes last night. In fact, I haven't told her anything about Edward. I'm too afraid to jinx it. But when she kept hinting about Tyler last month, I told her that he asked me out… and that I turned him down.

"Nothing's new," I answer with a shrug. "What about you?"

One question is all it takes. Jessica goes on and on about her husband's new job, their holiday plans, their baby plans. When Aro's office door opens several minutes later and he strides out to the reception area where we sit, she rolls her eyes at me and pushes herself back behind her own desk.

"Bella, I need you to type this contract," he says as he hands me the folder he's carrying. He remains standing in front of me as I begin typing, then walks around my desk to stand behind me.

"I can bring it in to you when I'm done," I hint, hoping he'll go back to his office.

"I'll wait. It won't take you long," he answers, hovering over my shoulder as he reads the words on the screen.

I bite my bottom lip to keep from arguing and type as fast as I can.

"You put the wrong date here," he says, leaning forward – leaning on me – to point out the line on my screen.

I hear the door to the office open, but don't turn my head to see who's coming in. When Jessica clears her throat before she speaks – her unspoken signal to me that a good-looking guy has come in – I suppress my smile.

"Hello there. What can I do for you?" she asks flirtatiously, dropping her voice an octave.

"I need to see Aro."

Recognizing Edward's voice, I turn to smile at him, but he's not looking at me; he's glaring at Aro.

"Cullen," Aro says tersely, straightening up. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you about some renovations I'm going to make at the bar. I need you to sign the construction permit application," Edward answers, walking over to stand in front of my desk. "And I came to see if Bella is available for lunch. Hey, ballerina." He drops the glare as he lowers his eyes to meet mine. When I say hi and smile at him, he smiles crookedly back at me.

"You have an appointment with me?" Aro snaps, recapturing Edward's attention.

"Nope. But since I'm starting demo tomorrow, I figured I'd better get you to sign off today," Edward retorts, his face impassive, but the taunting tone in his voice has me fighting the urge to laugh.

"My office. Right now," Aro barks, stalking across the room. He pauses in his office doorway and turns expectantly, waiting for Edward… but Edward's looking at me.

"Can you get away for lunch?" he asks quietly, placing his palms on my desk and leaning down toward me.

"Sure."

Smiling again, he stands back up and turns to walk across the office, taking his time despite the fact that Aro's face is getting redder by the second. Once Edward's inside, Aro scowls at me and then slams the door. For a moment, I remain staring at it, listening to Aro bellow behind the wood and glass. But from the corner of my eye, I see Jessica come to stand in front of my desk.

"Um, hello? _Ballerina_?" she mocks, sounding amused. "Who's the hot guy with the attitude?"

Smiling widely again, I turn to look at her. "That… is Edward."

"Yum."

I couldn't agree more.

* * *

By the time Edward emerges from Aro's office, I've explained everything to Jess. She seemed a little hurt at first that I hadn't mentioned him before, but I think she understood that it's a potentially sticky situation since we both rent business space from Aro… and Aro and Edward clearly don't get along.

"Ready, Bella?" he asks after I've introduced him to Jessica.

"Sure. I'll just grab my coat," I respond, getting up and going into the small office kitchen where our coat closet is. When I walk back out, Aro is standing just outside his office, sneering at me. Fortunately, Edward's looking at me, not Aro, so I grab his hand and pull him outside before he notices.

After we've ordered at the diner down the street, Edward tells me about his meeting with Aro.

"He signed everything, but he was pissed," he chuckles. "Especially about you. Gave me the fucking third degree about us."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "No idea. You'd tell me if he was fucking with you again, right?"

"Right."

"Why the fuck was he leaning over you when I got there? Does he always do that shit?" he asks, his amusement fading quickly to irritation.

"It was work, Edward," I reply. "He was just pointing out something I needed to fix." That part is true… but I _was_ uncomfortable with the way he remained bent over, kept his chest pressed against my shoulder. I don't think it would be helpful to tell Edward that right now though.

"I still think you should reconsider working for him," he suggests.

"I still think _you_ should reconsider bringing it up all the time," I retort, lifting one eyebrow at him.

"Feeling feisty today, ballerina?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow back at me. "I'll drop it… for now."

Smiling, I reach my hand across the table. Edward takes it immediately, linking our fingers together. "I feel like I've hardly seen you since Sunday," I complain.

"I know, baby. And I have to close tonight – it's Emmett's birthday. Rose is taking him out or something," he says.

"Okay." I nod before looking down at the table, willing my face to remain pale despite the fact that I feel my cheeks heating at the thought of Rose's "or something". Although I'm still mad at her, I hope that her gift-giving goes well. Emmett will like it either way, but Rose worked hard; she'll be disappointed if it doesn't go according to plan.

"But since you don't have to work tomorrow and I won't have to go in until noon, I could… if you want… it'll be late," he stammers.

"Edward, will you come over tonight after work?" I ask, raising my eyes to his and smiling when I see the nervous look on his face.

He grins. "That's what I was trying to say. But I didn't want to be rude and invite myself," he says.

"Edward, you can invite yourself over anytime," I insist.

"Oh, shit. You're in trouble now, ballerina," he laughs, his green eyes shining. "You'll never get rid of me if I have an open invitation."

He squeezes my fingers as I laugh, too… hoping it's true.

* * *

Jessica meets me at the door when I return to work, already wearing her coat and holding her purse.

"Oh, my God! Finally," she whines. "I'm so hungry. I want to hear all about your lunch when I get back though." She slides by me, rushing into the hallway as I call out my assent to her back.

Chuckling happily, I walk into the kitchen to hang up my jacket.

"You're not his type, you know," Aro says from behind me.

Startled since I didn't hear him approach, I jump and inhale sharply, then hope he didn't notice that he frightened me. As his footsteps come closer, I quickly replace the hanger and turn to face him. I can see by the unpleasant look on his face that I'm not going to enjoy this conversation.

"Cullen has a pattern, and it doesn't involve long-term relationships," he continues.

"Hmm, I guess we'll see," I answer haughtily, smiling icily at him… even though my stomach just dropped and my pulse is racing.

"Yes, Bella, you _will_ see. Cullen will be chasing after the next tall, beautiful woman that walks into his bar wearing a short skirt," he sneers. "_That's_ his type."

"Excuse me, Aro," I mumble, turning sideways to scoot by him and walk to my desk.

"You know, when that giant Native American came and threatened me in September, I assumed _he_ was the one you were involved with," he calls from behind me.

Giant Native American? That has Jake written all over it. I haven't talked to him in a couple of weeks, but he'll be hearing from me later today.

"I never dreamed you would be foolish enough to think someone like Cullen would really be interested in someone like… you," Aro continues, laughing scornfully.

Immediately, I feel sick and take a deep breath to try and tamp down the nausea. He's wrong… I know he's wrong. Edward does care about me… he does want to spend time with me. Why am I letting Aro's words affect me this way?

"If you're right, I'll know soon enough," I reply evenly, refusing to let Aro see that he's rattled me again… that he's hit on one of my biggest fears about Edward. I sit down at my desk and begin working on his brief again, trying to hide the fact that my hands are shaking.

"Don't worry, Bella. My offer still stands," he says smoothly as he stops in front of my desk. Involuntarily, my eyes lift to his face. "I'll be here to pick up the pieces when Cullen's through with you." Deliberately, his eyes drop to my chest, lingering there long enough to make me shift nervously on my chair. When he looks up and winks at me, it sends a shiver up my spine.

He turns and walks into his office, shutting the door behind himself. I stay seated at my desk staring into space until Jessica gets back, then I force myself to smile and tell her about my lunch… with Edward.

* * *

I continue to feel unsettled all afternoon, so I don't stop at the bar before my classes. I text Edward when classes are over to let him know I'm heading home – still not ready to see him… still afraid of what I might see – or might not see – in his eyes.

After taking a shower and putting on pajamas, I lie down on the couch and cover up with the afghan that was my dad's, seeking comfort. Edward said he'd call or text when he was on his way, so I keep my phone beside me.

It's a little after two when he calls to tell me something's wrong with the credit card machine and it will be a while before he's done. Sleepily, I insist that I still want him to come and am relieved when he agrees without hesitation. I fall asleep again until I hear the text chime on my phone.

***I'm at your door.**

I rush to the door and open it. He looks tired… but happy to see me. He's only stepped one foot forward when I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the cold of his leather jacket through my thin pajama top.

He chuckles quietly as he picks me up and walks in, kicking the door shut. "Hi, baby," he murmurs into my hair. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Four," he says, yawning. "Tanya did something to the credit card machine and it ran some of her tabs twice. I had to go back through every fucking receipt and find the duplicates so I could back them out. Fucking bitch."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, then press my lips to his neck. "You're cold."

In response, he presses his lips to my neck. "You're warm," he says then yawns again. "I've been up for twenty-two fucking hours."

I hug him more tightly for a moment. "Let's go to bed," I say.

"Ballerina, it's a good thing I'm so fucking tired," he says, rearing back to look at me and smiling. "Hearing those words come out of your mouth… shit."

Smiling, I peck his lips quickly. "Put me down so I can lock the door," I say. Instead, he turns and locks it without putting me down, then starts down the hallway to my room. He finally sets me down beside the bed and takes off his jacket, jeans and shirt, climbing into bed beside me in just his t-shirt and boxers.

"I'm sorry about tonight," he says, sighing and pulling me to his side. "But I don't have to go in until noon tomorrow. And I'm taking Saturday night off, okay?"

"It's fine, Edward," I say, wrapping my arm across his torso. "I'm just glad you're here now."

He hmms sleepily and grips me more tightly for a second, but I hear his breathing drop into a slow, deep rhythm almost immediately after. I snuggle in a little closer to his side, breathing him in… he smells good – a faint mixture of leather, cologne, mint – and cigarettes. Even though he says he quit, I know he still sneaks them when he's stressed out. And I know he's worried about the changes he's making at the Full Moon, sinking a lot of his profit back into a building he doesn't own.

Resolving to talk to him about it more tomorrow, I inhale deeply again and close my eyes, drifting off to sleep effortlessly.

* * *

Several hours later, I wake up lying on my back. Edward is on his side next to me, his arm draped heavily across my waist. Turning my head, I look over at him, smiling when I see the dark beard growth along his jaw. I'm definitely getting my hands on that when he wakes up. I study the angles of his face, the way his long, dark eyelashes fan out against his cheekbones. I struggle against my desire to kiss him – it's only nine and he was so exhausted when he got here… I should let him sleep.

Sighing quietly, I slip out from under his arm and move out of the room. After getting a bottle of water from the fridge, I use the bathroom, and then go back to the bedroom.

As I get back under the covers, Edward opens his eyes and blinks at me sleepily.

"Where'd you go?" he mumbles.

"Bathroom… and to get a drink," I whisper, turning onto my side to face him.

"I thought you left," he mutters, moving closer to me and wrapping one arm around my back.

Laughing quietly, I tilt my head up to look at him. "Edward, we're at my apartment," I remind him.

"I know, but I still woke up alone," he grumbles, letting his eyes slide closed.

"I'm sorry," I soothe, scooting up to press my lips to his. He smiles before he puckers back.

"I knew I could get you to kiss me," he teases as I pull away. Laughing, I raise my fingers to his cheek and rub back and forth lightly, feeling the slight prickle of his stubble. "Are you petting me again?"

"Uh huh," I whisper as I listen to the quiet rasp of my fingers sliding across his whiskered skin.

"All right," he shrugs. I lean in to kiss him once more, moving my hand from his jaw into his hair at the same time I skim my foot up and down his calf, and then hook my heel behind his ankle to pull his leg in between mine.

Grunting quietly, he glides his hand down my back, stopping to rest on my behind for a moment, then continuing along my leg until his fingers grip the back of my knee. He tugs gently, lifting my leg higher on his hip and pushing his thigh more firmly between my legs. Once he's satisfied with my leg position, he skims his hand back up my leg, finally coming to rest on my lower back.

"Morning, ballerina," he murmurs against my lips, nipping lightly before moving his mouth down my neck. Before I can answer, he presses gently against my lower back as he rocks his hips against mine.

"Edward," I manage to say, embarrassed when it sounds more like a gasp. But… I can feel him… and he feels really good. Also, I'm surprised because Edward has blatantly kept our hips from meeting like this since the night I found out about the sex ban.

He groans softly into the spot on my neck where he's sucking as I clutch at his shoulder. He moves his hips lazily against mine several times, holding me in place with his hand. Once I begin moving with him, he slides his hand up to my chest, covering my breast and squeezing lightly.

"Jesus, Bella," he growls, lifting his head and pressing his lips to mine again. As we kiss, both of us breathing hard, he pulls the strap of my cami down until I bend my elbow and pull my arm free. He pushes the fabric down, cupping my bare breast with his hand and gripping my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Gasping again, I pull my mouth away from his, and he kisses down my neck until he reaches my chest and covers me with his mouth. Still thrusting his hips against mine, he swirls his tongue around my nipple, then begins to suck. When my hips move faster against his, he pulls on me more vigorously and slides his hand down to my ass, squeezing as he rocks more forcefully against me.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of Edward's phone fills the room. He ignores it, not stopping the motion of his hips or mouth. After six rings, it stops, but starts again a few seconds later. He pulls his face away from my chest.

"Don't move," he orders hoarsely, kissing my lips quickly before he twists his upper body away to grab his phone from the nightstand. "Fuck. It's my mom."

I pull my leg down from his hip, even though he frowns at me as I do. I can't hear what Esme says after he answers, but Edward sits up and moves to the side of the bed. As I pull my top up, I watch Edward reach for his hair, first running his flat hand across the top to check it and then pulling at individual pieces to fix it. Smiling, I roll my eyes at his back.

"Is she okay? How long? Tell Rose not to worry about it. I'll cover her until you get back. Okay… okay… _okay, Mom_. Jesus," he says, finally chuckling after sounding upset at first. "Love you, too. Bye."

He sets the phone down and lies back, throwing one arm across his eyes and reaching for me with the other. I scoot close to his side and wrap my arm across his chest.

"Everything all right?" I ask hesitantly.

"Yeah. My Aunt Maggie is getting ready to have another freaking kid and she has to go on bed rest or some shit. Mom and Rose are flying to Chicago to help her until the kid's born," he explains.

"For how long?" I ask, propping myself up on my elbow so I can look at him.

"I don't know – a week or two, I guess," he answers. He moves his arm from across his eyes, lifting his hand to touch the side of my face. "Sorry, ballerina. My mom sure knows how to kill a fucking mood, huh?" He pulls my head down toward his until our lips meet gently. It's not passionate like a few minutes ago when he kisses me though.

"It's all right. I like this, too," I answer, burying my face in his neck and hugging him with the arm I have across his chest.

"Me, too, baby," he agrees, wrapping me tightly in his arms.

We lie silently for a minute until he sighs deeply.

"Well, I guess I should get up," he says. "Now I have to fucking work for Rose today. I swear to God she does this shit on purpose."

Laughing, I push myself up again to look at his face. "Language, Edward," I say sternly, trying to look serious. But when his lips start to curl upward, mine do, too. "Come on. I'll fix you breakfast before you go. It's the most important meal of the day, you know."

"I liked the meal I was having before my mom called," he says, laughing when I duck my head into his chest in embarrassment. "Come on, baby. I'll make my grandma's special pancakes for you."

"Why were they special?" I ask, sitting up and watching him as he gets out of bed.

"Because they were the only fucking thing she could make without burning," he says, smiling when I laugh and reaching a hand toward me to pull me up. "Wonderful woman, terrible cook."

* * *

When I walk into the Full Moon late that afternoon, Edward isn't behind the bar, Lauren is. As I make my way toward her, I continue scanning the happy hour crowd for him.

"Hi, Bella," she says, coming to stand in front of me when I sit on a barstool. "Looking for Edward?"

"Yeah. Is he around?"

"Upstairs with the architect. They should be down soon," she smiles. "Or you can go up."

"I'll go up," I shrug, smiling back.

As I climb the stairs, I hear Edward's voice but I can't make out what he's saying. When I'm near the top, the room comes into view. I'm surprised at the amount of change up here in just one day; all the walls that divided this space into separate storage rooms are gone, leaving a large open space with support poles placed sporadically throughout the area.

As I step onto the plywood floor, I turn in the direction of Edward's voice… and see a redheaded woman with her arm around Edward's shoulders. Their backs are to me, but she's tall and wearing stiletto heels, a short skirt, and a strapless top. She's standing behind him with one hand on his shoulder as she points at something on the blueprint he's holding in front of them.

I hesitate… I'd like to turn around and hightail it back downstairs, but it's too late. I'm wearing boots and have already taken three noisy steps.

The woman turns to look at me… but doesn't remove her hand from my… what?… is he my boyfriend? I guess I think of him that way now, but we haven't discussed whether or not we have official titles.

"May we help you with something, hon?" she asks condescendingly. I'm immediately intimidated; she's beautiful... and tall and wearing a short skirt. She tilts her head slightly and smiles frostily at me, probably recognizing that I'm feeling uncertain about coming up here now.

"I was just… looking for Edward," I finally say, only pausing to swallow uncomfortably once.

When he hears my voice, Edward turns to face me, dislodging Ginger's hand from his back.

"Hey," he smiles. "Is it five already?"

"Almost," I say, feeling a little better when our eyes meet. I smile back at him. "I'm a little early. Do you want me to wait downstairs?"

"No. Come here a sec. I want your opinion," he says. "Bella, this is Victoria, the architect."

"Hi," I say, turning my attention back to her.

"Hello," she answers coolly. "You are Bella…?" She extends her hand – the one that was previously resting on Edward – toward me to shake my hand as I approach.

"Swan. I own the dance studio next door," I answer, shaking her hand. She squeezes harder than is necessary – or polite – so I do, too. When she frowns fleetingly, I know I've either surprised or hurt her. Hopefully both. I'm stronger than I look. Dropping her hand, I look her in the eye before looking at Edward.

"We have a disagreement about the bathroom," he says, stepping over to me to show me the plans. "Victoria thinks a one stall unisex bathroom is the best bet for up here. What do you think?"

"Depends. Do you want women to come up here at all?" I laugh, looking at him.

"Well, yeah. If the women don't come up, the men won't come up," he reasons.

I nod, agreeing with him. "Then forget the unisex bathroom. Women do not want to share a bathroom with a bunch of men… especially drunk men. It's gross."

Edward laughs, releasing one side of the plans and wrapping that arm around my shoulders to pull me close. He presses his lips against my forehead.

"That's the perfect answer," he says, pulling back to look at me, noticing the gift bag hanging from my left hand. "What's in the bag?"

"Emmett's present," I answer. "Is he here?"

"Yep. You want to go find him while I finish up with Victoria?" he asks quietly, completely ignoring the statuesque unisex-bathroom-proposer. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

I nod and turn to go downstairs, then gather the courage to turn back. Fixing my gaze on Victoria, I warn with my eyes and smile with my lips. "Nice to meet you," I say pleasantly. "I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

Without waiting for her to reply, I walk toward the steps, listening as Edward tells her he agrees with me about the bathrooms and she's just going to have to find a way to make them fit.

Satisfied with myself, I hasten down the stairs smiling. I hear Emmett before I see him – just as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

"Tiny! Get over here woman," he calls loudly, walking around from behind the bar to greet me. He scoops me up and hugs me tightly.

"Emmett, I can't breathe," I laugh, hugging him back.

He loosens his hold slightly. "Thank you. Rose said you and Alice helped her… taught her. That's the best birthday I've ever had," he says.

"I'm glad," I laugh as he sets me down, then hand him his gift. "Happy birthday."

His eyes light up when he looks in the bag and finds brownies and cookies.

"Tiny, you know how I love the shit you bake," he sighs, shaking his head. "Rose can't bake." He looks up at me, pursing his lips and pulling them to the right slightly so that his deep dimple appears in that cheek. "Please forgive her soon. This is killing her."

"She knows what she has to do for me to forgive her," I say, lifting my chin to look up at him.

He nods. "I know. I don't agree with what she's doing, but there's no changing her mind once she's determined that she's right about something," he states, pulling me into another hug. He chuckles quietly and whispers in my ear. "Edward's giving me the dirtiest look right now."

I try to pull away and turn around, but Emmett won't let me go.

"Hey, dickhead," Edward says from behind me. "My sister's only been gone four hours. You probably shouldn't be trying to pick up someone else's date already."

"I'm just thanking her," Emmett says. "She helped Rose with my birthday gift."

"What'd you get?" Edward asks curiously.

"Uh, private, dude," Emmett replies, turning red as he releases me.

"Say no more… please," Edward laughs as I turn to look at him with a smile, which fades when I see that Victoria is still with him… but she has her suit jacket on and is carrying her briefcase.

"You ready to go, ballerina? We can walk out with Victoria," Edward suggests. I nod, taking the hand he holds out toward me. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, Emmett. Bella and I are going downtown for dinner."

Victoria ignores me, talking only to Edward on our way out to the parking lot. She tells him she'll have new plans ready early next week and suggests they meet for lunch or dinner to look at them.

"Just come by," Edward says, shrugging. "Between the construction and my sister being out of town, I won't be able to get away for lunch or dinner meetings for awhile."

I almost laugh as Victoria's eyes slide toward me, clearly noting that he has time for dinner with _me_. Edward unlocks the doors of his car with the remote and opens the passenger door for me. Meanwhile, Victoria wrenches the door of her red sports car open and tosses her portfolio into the back before getting in and slamming the door.

Pausing before I sit, I look up at Edward. He's standing on the outside of the open door and I'm on the inside. "I don't think she likes that answer… or me," I say quietly.

"She's a bitch," Edward answers, leaning in to whisper in my ear. "I don't fucking care what she likes – and neither should you." He leans back to smile at me, then kisses me across the top of the door as Victoria drives away.

* * *

"Ahhhh. That feels soooo good," Alice moans, lowering her feet into the hot, soapy water below. I follow suit – without the moaning – and sink my feet down into the little tub at the foot of my chair. "So, Bella, we haven't really had a chance to talk without a bunch of little ears around. Give me the scoop on the beautiful one."

"There's no real scoop," I say, eyeing the pedicurist coming toward us with a tray of multi-colored little bottles. "I see him every day, but with Rose gone for the last two weeks and construction going on at the bar, we haven't really been out on a date in a while."

"But he's sleeping over?" she leads, pointing at the bright blue polish for her toes.

"Alice!" I hiss, glaring at her and jerking my head toward the woman standing in front of us.

"What? She could care less if you have a guy spend the night," she laughs. Red-faced, I point to the dark purple bottle of polish and the pedicurist walks away. "He is sleeping over regularly, isn't he?"

"Five times in the last two weeks," I whisper. "Weekends mostly."

"Any…," she pauses to clear her throat dramatically, "_progress_?"

"Oh, my God. Are you _trying_ to embarrass the heck out of me or is this just normal Alice?" I groan, quietly, covering my face with my hands.

"This is normal Alice," she quips. "We've just never had consistent Bella-groping to discuss at length before."

Laughing, partly because I _am_ pretty happy about the consistent groping, I lower my hands and turn to look at her. She's looking back and she wiggles her eyebrows and motions for me to talk with her hand.

"It's basically the same," I say. And it is. And that's fine with me. Since the morning we were interrupted by Esme, there hasn't been any more of… that. But I'm content with the kissing and the fun size candy… for now.

"But you're spending time together, getting to know each other better, right?" she asks. I nod. "And you still really like him?"

"Yeah, I really like him," I answer, smiling and looking down at my lap. I guess our feet have been soaking long enough because the pedicurists approach and sit down in front of us.

"Bella… are you in love with him?" Alice asks softly, reaching over to touch my forearm.

"I think so," I answer quietly, looking at her.

She rolls her lips together and looks a little teary when she answers. "I think you are, too."

We're both quiet for a couple of minutes as our feet are scrubbed until the skin is pink and new.

When Alice starts talking again, she tells me everything she still has to do tonight to be ready to leave for Texas in the morning. Her commentary is interlaced with complaints about having to be there five days before Thanksgiving.

"I know Jasper's going to leave me with his mother while he goes hunting or something for three days," she gripes. "I love my mother-in-law, but I don't want to listen to her extol the joys of motherhood for the next seven days straight."

"But you'll do it for Jasper," I remind her, smiling at her when she nods and smiles.

"Yeah," she grudgingly agrees, picking up her phone when it buzzes and rolling her eyes as she reads the text. "It's him. He's at the Full Moon with Emmett and Edward. Can you give me a ride there when we're done here?"

"Yep," I answer. "I'm heading there anyway. Edward's going to try to leave by midnight tonight."

"Are you freaking about next week?" she asks quietly.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "No. I'm sure I'll be sad, but I miss him every day. I don't think that one particular day will be any worse just because it's been a year since he died," I answer. "And I'm looking forward to spending the day with the Cullens."

"Even Rose?" Alice asks. "Isn't she coming back tomorrow?"

"Yes and yes," I answer. "I'm going to have to let it go. Edward says we'll make our own decision anyway. I just don't want her to think she can push us – push me – around."

"I think she knows that. And I'm impressed with the tightrope-walking Edward's doing between you and his sister," she observes, clearly trying to steer our conversation in a less serious direction.

"I think it's harder on him than on me," I agree.

She giggles. "In lots of ways. So really… are you getting any bolder… you know, in the bedroom?" she asks, getting my attention again. When I look at her, wide-eyed and horrified, she shrugs and tries to look innocent. "What? I'm leaving town tomorrow for a week. I just want to know that you're… in good hands."

"I am," I hiss, turning to look at my pedicurist. She's talking to the other pedicurist in… I'm not sure what language… and seemingly not paying any attention to the conversation Alice is trying to have with me. "In fact, I'm thinking that I might be ready to move forward."

"Really?" Alice asks. When I turn to her, her head is tilted to the side and her eyes are narrowed into blue slits capable of detecting even the smallest lie. "Have you looked at it yet?"

"Looked at what?" I frown.

"It. _It_," she says, exasperated with me for not getting it. "Him." With one finger she points… down.

Oh. _Oh_.

"No, not yet," I mumble, clasping my hands in my lap. I drop my gaze to my fingernails and begin picking at the chipping, pale pink polish. I really wish we had time for manicures, too. But Alice still has to pack. She bites her nails anyway so she never wants to pay to have them done.

"Then you're not ready," she pronounces, undeterred by my obvious discomfort. When I look at her, she reaches over to touch my arm again. "I mean it, Bella. Get more comfortable with yourself… and with him. When it's time, you'll know."

Rolling my eyes at her, I turn away, convinced that the pedicurists – silent now – are listening to us.

"Can we talk about something else?" I beg.

"Yes. Let's talk about famous explorers, B. Christopher Columbus… Lewis and Clark… who else is there?" she asks.

Laughing in relief and having no idea what brought this on, I chime in. "Don't forget Sacagawea."

"Right. She gets extra points for carrying a kid on her back the whole way, too," Alice laughs. "Who else… who else?" She taps her chin with one finger, still thinking.

"Cortes," I suggest, still mentally running through the highlights of my World History high school class. "Um… Marco Polo… Magellan."

Her eyes light up. "Magellan…that's a good one. Wasn't he the first sail-around-the-world guy?" she asks curiously.

"I think so," I answer. I don't remember _that_ much from high school history.

"Then channel him while _you_ explore. I want you to Magellan Edward," she orders. "I want you to Magellan the hell out of him."

In spite of my embarrassment, I can't stop the giggle that escapes… and neither can the pedicurists. I knew they were listening. As my face heats once again, I shake my head at Alice and then lean it back against the headrest, closing my eyes.

Just the thought of what she wants makes me nervous as hell. I don't know if I'll be brave enough to do it.

But I know this: I can never get my toenails done here again.

* * *

Thanksgiving morning dawns sunny and unseasonably warm. Esme finally relented and agreed that I could bring a salad for dinner, so I make that and bake a loaf of banana bread to take her, too. I didn't ask Edward to come over last night, wanting to be alone for a little while today.

Jake's mom, Sue, already called this morning to check on me. Alice texted me. I assured them both that I'm okay.

After the food is done, I walk to the bookshelf and remove a couple of my dad's photo albums, then sit on the couch. As I look through them, tears fill my eyes several times, but I also laugh a lot remembering holidays, fishing trips, dance recitals. For the first time since he died, it's more sweet than bitter to see the pictures of him and recall all the things we used to do together.

After an hour, I put the books back on the shelf and go to get ready. I've just finished when Edward knocks on the door.

"Hey, ballerina," he says softly, studying my face before stepping inside and putting his arms around me.

"Hi," I answer, hugging back.

"How are you?" he asks, pulling away to look at me.

"I'm okay. I'll talk to you about it… but I'd rather get through the day first," I say.

He nods and smiles, reaching up to cup my face. "You look great," he says.

"So do you. Especially your hair," I tease, lifting my hand toward the top of his head. As I expected, he ducks away, making me laugh. He's so particular about the hair… well, during the day. He doesn't seem to mind if I put my hands in it when we're making out at night.

He carries the dishes out to the car and holds my hand during the drive to his parents' house. He's always attentive with me, but I know he's making an extra effort today… and I know Alice was lecturing him the other night. When we were at the Full Moon after our pedicures last week, I saw Alice corner Edward on her way back from the bathroom. When I tried to go save him, Jasper stopped me and told me to let Alice have her say. She seemed happy about whatever Edward said – neither of them would tell me what they talked about – and she even hugged him goodbye when they left.

As we pull into Carlisle and Esme's driveway, I'm a little nervous; I've never spent a holiday with anyone except my dad and Jake's family. But I'm pretty comfortable with Edward's parents… and I'm glad that I told them about my dad a few weeks ago when Edward and I ate lunch with them. Emmett and Rose don't know though. Hopefully the subject of my family won't come up; I'm afraid I'll lose it if someone asks about it right now.

Edward seems to sense my unease, so he stays close to me, even hanging out in the kitchen with Esme, Rose and me… until Esme tells him to beat it so we can have girl talk. He leans in to kiss me before grumbling about being kicked out and leaving the room with a grin.

When I turn around to look at Esme, she's smiling, looking down at the gravy she's stirring on the stove.

"He's so different with you, Bella," she remarks. "He's never been very verbal with me about his feelings – even when he was a little boy. But it's obvious that he cares very deeply for you."

I smile at her when she looks up at me, but I'm not very verbal about my feelings either, so I don't reply. Luckily, Emmett appears in the kitchen doorway, so the silence doesn't stretch too long.

"Esme, the doc says he wants his dinner on the table _right now_," he says, sounding serious.

"I said no such thing, Es," Carlisle calls from the other room, laughing.

"I know you wouldn't be that stupid," Esme answers, then turns her attention to Emmett. "You, on the other hand, apparently don't know what I do to my children when they lie to me." Using her apron, she wipes off her wooden spoon and then whacks it against her palm a couple of times.

"Time to run, big boy," Rose advises. We both laugh when Emmett squeals and leaves the room with Esme and her spoon hot on his heels.

Since the food is ready, Rose and I begin putting everything in serving dishes and carrying them to the dining room. As we're arranging everything on the table, she quietly asks, "Are we on a one-day truce?"

"No, Rosalie. We're on a permanent truce," I answer. "I don't want to fight. Let's just not discuss your brother and me, okay?"

"Okay," she replies. "I'm glad you're here today, Bella."

"Me, too," I answer, smiling at her.

Once again, the serious moment is broken by Emmett as he runs into the room, causing all the glassware on the tabletop to clink together. He slides into a seat and ties his napkin around his neck.

"Hey, Rose," he teases, "your mom says Tiny and I get to do the wishbone because she likes us best."

"That's not what I said, Emmett," Esme answers, stepping up beside me and putting an arm around my shoulders. "I said you two get to do the wishbone since you're the newest members of the family."

Edward and his dad are walking in and I'm afraid that he'll freak out when he hears what his mom just said. But he just smiles at me, leaning against the wide doorway of the dining room with his hands in his front pockets.

Esme leans close to whisper in my ear as she hands me the wishbone. "Hold on to the big side," she says. "And don't forget to make a wish."

* * *

Late that night, at Edward's insistence, I tell him in detail about last Thanksgiving – celebrating early at the Black's house because my dad was working the evening shift, drinking wine with Jake and Jared, my confusion when my dad's deputy came to find me and sitting up all night in my dad's bedroom hoping it was all a mistake.

Sitting on the couch wrapped in Edward's arms and my dad's afghan, it hurts, but I feel protected, too… by both of them. He rubs my back and whispers that he's sorry.

"I wish you had met him, wish he had met you," I say, smiling at him sadly.

"Me too, ballerina," he says, lifting his hand to cup my cheek.

"He would like you," I predict, then chuckle. "Well, until he heard all the cussing."

He smiles and leans down to kiss me. "What can I do for you tonight, baby?"

"Stay?" I ask. He nods and kisses me again. "And just hang on tight, okay?"

Several hours later, I wake up still curled against Edward's chest… but my arm is asleep. Rolling over, I shake it out a couple of times, wincing when it begins to wake up. I adjust the pillow under my head and burrow down under the covers. I haven't gone back to sleep yet when I feel Edward roll toward me, molding his body to mine and tenderly putting his arm around my waist to hug me.

"Thank you," I whisper, taking his hand and pulling it to my lips. I kiss his hand twice before I put it back on my stomach and cover it with mine. He doesn't answer me except to lower his lips to my shoulder, searching until he finds a spot not covered by the wide strap of my tank top and placing a lingering kiss on my bare skin.

I lie awake for a long time – and I think Edward's awake, too. But neither of us says a word as we lie intertwined and hanging on.

* * *

On Saturday, Edward comes Christmas shopping with me, following me from store to store and helping pick out gifts for his parents and for Rose and Emmett… and only saying the f-word twenty-seven times. Exhausted by the time we're finished, we go back to his condo, where we decide to order dinner in and watch a movie. I'm afraid that he'll think it's a boring way to spend a Saturday night, but he seems… happy. We split a bottle of wine with dinner, then I load the dishes in the dishwasher while Edward packs up the leftovers and puts them away.

"Can we finally fucking sit down and relax?" he asks, laughing when I frown over my shoulder at him. Most of the time, he's better about the cussing, but I think he likes it when I pretend to be mad if he slips.

As I start the dishwasher, I hear him loading the DVD player in the other room. I gave in earlier on the movie since he was such a good sport today, so I think he's putting on some boy movie with fast cars and guns. That's all right. I'll just stare at him during the movie.

When I get in the living room, he's sitting in the middle of the couch. He holds his hand out to me and pulls me down beside him after I grasp his fingers. He pulls me close, and I rest my head against his shoulder. It's not the kind of movie I thought it would be; it's a comedy… a guy comedy. I'm not really paying attention, but Edward laughs a lot. That fact alone makes me smile.

Twisting my body toward him, I wrap both of my arms around his and cross my legs, then sling the top leg over Edward's knee. He runs his hand up and down my leg absently while he watches the screen.

I wait a while longer, trying to work up the courage to do what I want to do. I turn my head and study his profile, his neck, those three little moles that I always want to put my tongue on.

"What?" he asks, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

"Just looking at you," I reply. "You like this movie, huh?"

"Yeah, it's one of my favorites," he answers, then swiftly turns his head to look at me with a frown. "Is something wrong? I've seen this a lot… you know, if you want to talk."

I sit up suddenly and turn, swinging my leg over to straddle his lap. First surprise and then amusement settle on his face. He puts his hands on my hips, squeezes gently, and looks up at me.

"I don't want to talk," I say quietly as I lean forward, bracing my palms on his chest. I kiss him gently twice, then rest my forehead against his, keeping my eyes closed. "I feel safe with you."

"You _are_ safe with me, ballerina," he says, moving one hand up to cup the back of my neck, tangling his fingers in my hair.

"I want to… um… um," I say, then huff out a breath when I can't find the words to say what I want.

"What is it, baby? What do you want to do?" he asks, bringing his other hand up to my neck and pushing gently so that I sit back a bit. He puts two fingers under my chin, forcing my head up, and I hesitantly open my eyes and look into his.

"I want to… look at you… touch you," I whisper.

He chuckles quietly, his eyes shining. "Okay. What are you waiting for?"

"You won't laugh at me?" I ask, looking down at his chest again and unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt.

"Not unless you hit a ticklish spot," he says. My eyes dart back to his.

"You're ticklish?" I ask, smiling at him.

"Mmhmm. Very," he says, nodding slowly.

"Where?" I ask excitedly.

"Why don't you find out?" he says, settling against the back of the couch, sliding his hands down to my thighs and cocking one eyebrow at me.

Smiling, I lean forward to kiss him again, lifting my hands up to cup each side of his jaw. He kisses back, but lets me lead, holding still as I pull at his lips with mine. When I gently bite his lower lip and suck it into my mouth, he groans quietly and skims his hands up my thighs to my hips.

Letting go of his lip, I move my mouth across his cheek to his ear and trace the tip of my tongue along the outline of his ear while I use my fingers to do the same on the other side.

When I move my mouth and kiss down his neck, he tilts his head back to rest against the top of the couch and slides one hand into my hair, gripping lightly. For several minutes, I kiss and suck along both sides of his neck, pausing twice to put my lips against his briefly. By the time I sit back slightly and finish unbuttoning his shirt, he's panting, watching me with dark, heavy-lidded green eyes.

Leaning forward, I kiss his upper chest as I spread the sides of the shirt apart. Slowly, I skim my hands down his chest, stopping to circle his nipples – pleased when I hear him inhale sharply.

"Jesus, ballerina," he breathes quietly. I hum against his chest and then sit up to push the shirt from his shoulders and down his arms. He leans forward slightly to help, then I pull the shirt completely away and toss it to the side.

Burying my hands in his hair, I press my lips to his and kiss him deeply before letting my hands and mouth wander down to his shoulders. When I trace my nails lightly down his ribcage, I hit the first ticklish spot, chuckling softly with him when he shivers and tries to push my hands away.

"Hold still, baby," I murmur, kissing the spot over his heart, feeling the thundering beat under my lips.

"I warned you," he replies, sounding amused – and still out of breath.

"I want to look at your tattoo," I announce, shifting off of his lap and pressing his left shoulder until he turns slightly sideways, letting me get behind him. "What is this?" I ask, using my index fingers to trace along the dark lines.

"A Celtic cross," he replies, reaching back to grab my leg with his hand and pulling until I hook my leg over one of his.

"When did you get it?" I ask, rising up on my other knee behind him. I wrap one arm around his chest and hang the other one over his shoulder as I lean forward and put my open mouth at the top of the ink.

He inhales sharply and covers my hand with his. "Uh… like… um five years… ago," he answers as I kiss across his upper back. "Fuck."

Chuckling quietly, I pull my mouth away from his skin and trace the artwork with my finger again. "It's pretty, Edward. I like it," I whisper.

"Thanks, but Christ," he says hurriedly, "please come back up here so I can touch you."

Immediately, we both shift and he lifts me as he sits back, putting me in my previous spot straddling his legs. I lower my mouth to his and kiss him hungrily, sliding my hands through his hair repeatedly as he reaches for the hem of my shirt. I let him pull it off and go right back to kissing him, sighing deeply as he glides his hands up and down my sides.

Sitting up, I brush my hands down his chest again, then look into his eyes as I reach for the button of his jeans.

"Jesus, Bella," he breathes, as I unbutton his jeans and slowly pull the zipper down. "What the fuck's gotten into you tonight?"

"Language, Edward," I remind him teasingly, leaning forward to kiss his neck as I stroke the backs of my fingers up and down the front of his boxers. He groans quietly as his hands move to my hips and then around to my behind. I suck on his skin gently, feeling him grow harder under my hand, hearing his breathing become more ragged.

"Fuck," he breathes.

I lift my head and put my lips on his again, kissing him desperately… breathless, too, now.

After a minute, I sit up to look at him, smiling when I see that he's looking down.

"Baby," he breathes, still watching the movement of my hand.

I push myself off of him and stand on trembling legs. When I grasp the waistband of his jeans, he helps, quickly pushing both his jeans and boxers down around his knees and then kicking them off. He reaches for me, sitting forward to kiss my stomach as his hands grasp my breasts, squeezing gently and then plucking at my nipples through the sheer fabric of my bra.

"God, Edward," I whisper, sinking my fingers in his hair.

Lowering one hand to the button of my jeans, he pulls it loose. "Please?" he asks, looking up at me. Breathing hard, I nod slightly and step back, out of his hold, to lower the zipper. I push the jeans off quickly and stand in front of him in just my sheer black bra and lacy underwear.

"Fucking Christ, you're gorgeous," he growls, leaning forward to pull me toward him. For a minute, I let him kiss across my bare stomach again while he runs his hands up and down the back of my thighs. Then, remembering my intention, I wiggle away.

"Sit back, baby," I whisper. When he does, I finally drop my eyes and look, inhaling shakily. I've never really looked at a guy before. Since I've had my hands on Edward before, I'm not surprised by the size, but I am surprised that I'm not scared – or disgusted – when I see it. Lifting my eyes back to his face, I smile at him and take the hand he holds out to steady me as I straddle him again. I wrap my arms around his shoulders tightly, pressing my body against his. Digging his hands into my hair, he pulls gently until I kiss him again… although we're not kissing so much as heavy breathing with our tongues in each other's mouths.

When his hands rove down my back, I pull my mouth away and scoot back on his legs. Slowly, I trail my hands down from his shoulders, across his chest and then lower, finally wrapping my hand around him. "Show me what feels good," I whisper.

"Fuck, ballerina. It all feels good," he groans, but he takes my wrist, lifting my hand up to his mouth. Keeping his eyes on mine, he kisses across my palm, then uses his tongue to coat my hand. He leads my hand back down and I grip him again. He's still holding my wrist, guiding my hand up and down and twisting slightly. A moment later, he stills my hand and takes my thumb, using it to trace around and over the tip. He groans, letting go of my wrist and raising his hand to dig into my hair again. Knowing what he wants, I put my lips on his, tracing his lips with my tongue. I repeat the hand motion, happy when his eyes slide closed and his head falls back.

He grunts several times and moves both of his hands to encircle my thighs. When my hand feels too dry, I lick my other hand and use it to wet his skin again, so that my hand moves up and down more easily.

"Fuck," he says, again. "Bella… Bella." He opens his eyes, his green irises dark now, to look at me. His hips buck twice and he moves one hand from my leg to grab the shirt on the couch beside us, putting it and his hand over mine as he comes.

I lean forward to kiss his neck down to his shoulder, smiling against his skin. He's still panting when I lean back up to kiss his lips.

"Baby," he whispers. "Sorry about your shirt."

Straightening up, I look down between us and giggle when I see my crumpled blue tee still laying across him. "It's all right," I whisper. He wipes himself and my hand off and tosses the shirt to the side.

"I'll wash it later," he murmurs, lifting his hands to cup the sides of my face. "But right now, it's my turn."

Sitting up, he kisses me gently until I whimper and try to get my hips closer to his. Then he scoots forward on the couch and gently adjusts me, moving my legs to wrap around his hips and pulling me right up against him at the same time that he raises one hand to my chest, using his thumb to circle my nipple. When I can't breathe anymore, I wrench my mouth away from his, tilting my head to the side slightly as he kisses down my neck and across my collar bone.

He wraps his arms around my back as he moves his mouth farther down, kissing and sucking along the top edge of my bra and pressing me backward, supporting me with his arms. Finally, he covers my breast with his mouth, wetting the sheer fabric as he sucks strongly.

When he switches sides, I whimper again. "Edward… God… please," I pant. He continues pulling on me for a moment, then slowly pulls me back up straight.

"Bella," he whispers, kissing me again, sweeping his tongue into my mouth.

Lowering his hands to cup my behind, he pulls my hips against his and I can feel that he's getting hard again. Suddenly, he twists sideways until we've changed positions, so I'm sitting on the couch and he's sinking to kneel on the floor between my legs. I feel his hands at my back, unhooking my bra and I pull it off as soon as it's loose. He pushes me back and puts his lips over my bare breast, swirling and sucking as I clutch his shoulders.

His hands glide slowly down my sides, pausing to dip under the band of my underwear, then continuing down my thighs. He pulls back from my chest and raises his green gaze to mine. I have a sudden flash of Edward being in this position before… but I can't focus on that now.

"Where's that fucking scar?" he asks, still looking at me, but tracing his fingers lightly along the front of my right knee.

"That tickles," I whisper, smiling at him, trying not to think about where he is and what he's doing and what I'm wearing… which is only underwear.

"There it is," he says, finding it with his ring finger and smiling at me.

As he bends his head and places his lips gently on my knee, I ask breathlessly, "I told you about my surgery?" I don't remember talking about it at all.

Raising his head up, he smirks at me. He's so cute that I wonder how I ever found this smirk annoying when I first met him.

"Told me about it and asked me if I wanted to kiss the scar," he answers, grabbing my hand when I try to cover my face with it. "I never wanted to kiss someone's knee before that night."

"Really?"

"Really," he says, pushing himself all the way up on his knees and framing my face with his hands. "There are a lot of things I never wanted to do before I met you."

"Me, too," I breathe, leaning forward to kiss him. The kiss starts out slow and sweet – a silent declaration of my feelings for him… the things I can't say out loud yet. Quickly, the kiss heats up, turning into a frenzy of roving hands and lips.

Suddenly, Edward pulls away and turns around, shoving the coffee table away a couple of feet. He reaches behind me to grab the white, furry blanket from the back of the couch and spreads it on the floor behind him. He pulls his boxer briefs out of his discarded jeans and awkwardly puts them back on without standing.

"Not a good idea for me to be naked with you right now, ballerina," he explains when I frown at him. "I don't have _that_ much control."

Smiling, I don't hesitate when he reaches for me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he lifts me from the couch and puts me down gently on the blanket. He follows me down, settling on top of me and hovering on his elbows. He lowers his lips to mine again, kissing me until I have to pull away to take a breath. When he scoots down and latches on to my neck, I can't stop my hips from pushing up against his. He thrusts against me slowly several times.

Unhurriedly, deliberately, he scoots farther down, skimming his lips back and forth across my ribs. Raising his head, he looks up at me as he pushes himself backward again.

"Edward," I say, not sure I'm comfortable with where I think he's headed. I've pushed myself tonight and am now almost totally naked in front of him – and surprisingly not that freaked out about it.

"Please, baby," he says, his gravelly voice deeper than normal. He dips his head and kisses a trail from my navel down to the top edge of my underwear. Looking up at me again, he rests his chin on me… pressing down gently and smiling when I gasp.

"Edward, I…," I breathe, unsure of what to say. When I take a shuddering breath a second later, Edward takes it as tacit agreement and lifts up to pull my lacy underwear down. "I'm not sure… I can't let you."

"Yes, you can," he argues, shifting my legs together to pull the scrap of lace off and then moving them apart again. He reaches for one of my hands and places it on top of his head. "If you want me to stop, just pull. You don't even have to say anything, okay?"

Rolling my lips together nervously, I nod, looking at him long enough to see his answering smile before I squeeze my eyes shut – partly embarrassed by what he's doing, partly afraid I won't like it.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

As soon as I feel his warm breath against me, I gasp quietly. With my eyes still shut, I feel his arms come around my thighs and then his tongue… _there_. He varies the motion of his mouth – quick then slower, soft then forceful. Everything he does feels good… so good. The steady rhythm he finally settles into sends me quickly spiraling toward the edge. He pulls away abruptly, making me realize too late that I'm gripping his hair tightly.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks quietly.

"No… God… please don't stop," I moan, fleetingly embarrassed by how desperate I sound. But when he puts his mouth back on me… when he sucks this time… slowly, gently… I'm not ashamed at all.

Unable to stop myself, I thrust my hips up against his mouth. He suddenly sucks faster, more vigorously – and I want to see… need to see. Lifting my head, I open my eyes and the sight of him lying between my legs gives me the last little push. My back arches as I collapse back to the blanket, groaning and pulling on Edward's hair again as pleasure races through my body.

It takes several seconds for him to pull his mouth off me. He kisses down along the inside of my right thigh and then up my left as I lie gasping for breath, my heart still beating wildly.

"Please… come up here," I beg hoarsely, needing to feel his arms around me, his weight on me.

He crawls up my body, pausing to drop kisses in several more spots. Finally, his face is right above mine, and I raise up to put my arms around him, my lips against his, sighing when he puts one arm around my shoulders and presses me back to the ground with his weight. We kiss several times before he rests his head on the floor beside mine.

"Edward, I think I'm ready," I whisper a few minutes later, stroking my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Several seconds tick by before he answers me. Finally, he moves his head, kissing my shoulder before raising up on his elbows to look at me. He smiles and places a lingering kiss against my lips.

"Ballerina, you have to _know_ it before we move forward," he says quietly, his green eyes boring into mine as he pushes up again.

Irritated, I feel my mouth settle into a pursed, straight line. "Why are you always fighting me on this?"

"Baby, believe me, when you're _really _sure, you won't get any fight from me," he says, chuckling lightly. "But you always feel like this at night… and then during the day, you're more hesitant. You have to be sure during the day, too."

I roll my eyes, turning my head away from him when he smiles smugly. He's right – and he knows it – but I'm still annoyed with him… until he kisses across my cheek and then traces the tip of his tongue along the shell of my ear.

"Bella, I want you," he says. "But this is a big step… and I don't think this is the best time to make a decision about it. You've been so emotional the last few days."

Now I'm miffed again and I turn to look at him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demand.

"It's supposed to mean that you've been upset about your dad, understandably," he says gently, making me feel guilty immediately because he's been so attentive and careful with me the last couple of days.

"Oh," I reply, dropping my eyes to his neck.

"When we're together, I want you to only be thinking of us," he says, raising his fingers to stroke along my cheek. "Not your dad… not my fucking sister."

It's kind of weird that he's mostly naked and I'm totally naked and he's bringing up our relatives. But I get his point.

"Us," I repeat, swinging my eyes back to his. Sighing, I smile as I pull him down to me.

"You're staying here tonight, right?" he murmurs against my lips.

"If you want me to," I answer.

"You know I want you to," he insists, rearing back to frown slightly at me. "Don't you?"

"No, I don't know," I answer. The last few times that we've spent the night together, it's been at my apartment. Usually Edward is coming late from work and just comes there.

"I want you to stay," he says. "I want you to stay whenever you want to. Okay?"

"Okay. Will you loan me something to sleep in?"

"Nope. I like you like this," he says, trailing a hand down my side and leaning down to kiss me again.

I kiss him back for a few seconds then skim my hands down his back… and around to his sides. I hit the tickle spot I found earlier, and then slide up under his arms.

"No… no… stop," he begs, squirming and laughing until I pull my hands away. "Okay, okay. I'll give you a shirt, but no boxers."

"Edward," I warn, tapping my fingers lightly on his sides again.

"Jesus, ballerina," he replies, acting irritated. "I'll give you the fucking boxers, too." He pushes back onto his knees, offering me a hand to help me sit up. He grabs his shirt from the couch and hands it to me, watching as I slip my arms into the too-big sleeves and pull it closed in front of me.

"What?" I ask, looking sideways at him… and smiling because he is.

He stands and then helps me up, too.

"You look fucking good in my shirt," he says, leaning down to kiss me. "But after you're… after we… when you're ready, you're never wearing clothes in my fucking condo again."

As I wrap my arms around his neck and feel his hands snake up under his shirt to rest at the small of my back, I think I might be okay with that. Yep, I resolve as he breathes my name into my neck and hugs me tightly, I think that sounds just fine.

* * *

**A/N2: So, since I haven't talked to you all summer, I hope your last four months and one day were great.**

**Mine were a mix... At work, Bitch-Who's-Not-Me got fired (she was my archenemy). Mean-Bitch-Who's-Not-Me has started being nice. Most of the Princesses at work are behaving. What am I going to complain about now? Never fear... someone else will piss me off soon. That's just the kind of mood I'm in.**

**Drama Queen (age 12) had her first breakup right before school started. Isn't that when the little bastards always do it? Second day of school, he asked her to go with him again... not sure where they're going. They never see each other outside of school. Anyway, he asked her in the morning and she made him wait the whole day before she said yes. Ka-Pow. That's my kid. Heh heh.**

**She decided on the fourth day of school that I am the dumbest person on the planet. Seriously, I think she's surprised that I've survived this long without her. There is a 200% increase in eye rolls in my house in the last month. And a 600% increase in stomping followed by a door slam. I'm not sure, but I think that means I'm doing something right. ;)**

**Hope you'll review. Hope you'll keep reading. Lots of story left for these two. And no more gigantic work projects on the horizon. :)**

**Mwah!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hmmm. I usually don't have trouble thinking of crap to fill up this space, but tonight... I got nothin'. **

**Giant thank you to windgirl810, extraordinary beta, extraordinary friend. :) Love ya and thanks for everything.**

**Also, big thanks to Michelle0526 for pre-reading and catching my funky verb tense and lazy-fingered typing. :) She's a multi-talented girl who can decipher the most ridiculously jumbled text messages, too. It's not even usually autocorrect's fault. :( Love ya tons!**

**Littlecat358 keeps me sane and entertained daily - and was especially good to me on a somewhat stressful day earlier this week. Thank you! Love ya!**

**tennesseelamb is the only person I've "met" in Crate & Barrel and traded multiple shoe pictures with... I'm not sure what that says about us. But I love it - and her!**

**Sweet Erron, you make me smile... even when you make fun of Bono, who BTW is singing to me right now. Apparently, I move in mysterious ways...**

**As usual, tweaking til the very last second, so all mistakes are mine... and some other lady owns Twilight. **

**Thanks for reading...please review. **

* * *

**EPOV**

* * *

Fuck. I can't sleep.

Turning my head, I look at Bella, burrowed down under the covers of her bed, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted. She sighs intermittently all night long. She probably doesn't know that, but I do… since we've spent the last ten nights – every night since Thanksgiving – together at either her apartment or my condo.

As if she knows what I'm thinking, she exhales deeply. It's fucking cute. She reaches toward me in her sleep, resting her hand on my chest and then sighing once more when I cover her fingers with mine.

The last seven weeks have been pretty fucking perfect. It's been easy to fall into this relationship with her… talking to her, hanging out with her, sleeping with her. _Sleeping _sleeping, not _fucking _sleeping. We haven't done that yet – and I don't even mind… much. I mean, Christ, I want to, but not until she's ready. Plus, I actually like this part. Not that I'm going around bragging about the fact that I'm not getting laid, but I like being next to her at night, like having my hands on her while she's sleeping.

And the nights aren't _completely_ innocent. She's getting more comfortable with me – with herself – physically. She gives me a certain look, a shy little smile, when she wants to fool around. I'm getting pretty fucking good at reading those signals. But I'm trying to control myself and not be all over her all the time, not make her think she has to get me off every night. I try to show affection in other ways – I hug her, rub her back, kiss her without trying anything more. It seems like it makes her happy… and for eight nights, it's made me happy, too.

But the last two nights, I can't fucking sleep.

Bella's room is just starting to get light as I reach toward the nightstand and pick up my phone to check the time – it's not quite seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. Silently, I set it back down. I know I won't be able to go back to sleep. Turning to look at her again, I start to feel it… the same thing I've felt off and on for the last couple of days. It's a slight tightening in my chest, a twisted knot in my stomach… and suddenly, I want to leave.

Swallowing uncomfortably, I lift her hand off my chest and gently lay it down as I scoot out and sit on the side of the bed. I pull my jeans on and stand up to button and zip them, then pick up my wallet, phone and keys from the nightstand. I'll grab my shoes and hoody from the living room on the way out. Behind me, I hear Bella moving around in the bed and know I'm going to have to face her. She'll have to get up and lock the door behind me anyway.

"Where are you going?" she asks hesitantly, her voice rough with sleep.

Turning around, I smile at her, hoping it's convincing. "Hey, ballerina. I can't sleep. I've got some shit to do at home anyway, so I thought I'd go," I say. It's not exactly a lie; I really haven't been home in three days except to shower and change clothes.

"Oh, okay," she says, half-smiling back at me and pushing herself up to sit propped on one arm.

"Uh… I know we planned on hanging out today, but I think I'd better go in to work. Emmett probably won't be in good shape today – he went to his fraternity alumni Christmas party last night. Last year he didn't recover for two days," I say, forcing a laugh.

"Okay," she repeats, her smile fading, her eyes studying mine. "Do you want me to stop by later?"

Fuck. She's catching on that something's wrong with me… her big, brown eyes widen as she waits – and waits – for my answer.

"Um, yeah… sure… of course," I finally stammer. Then, because I know she sees right through me, I do the most obvious fucking thing in the world and close my eyes, scrubbing across my face with my hands. "You want to come lock the door behind me?"

"There's a key on the counter. I was going to give it to you anyway… you might as well take it now," she says. My eyes pop open to meet hers… her gaze is wary as she watches for my reaction. "If you want it, I mean."

Finally losing her nerve, she drops her eyes, looking down as she picks at the covers with her fingers. Shit. I sit down on the bed and lean toward her.

"I want it," I say, then kiss her gently. I do want it… I want her… I just don't know what else is going on with me – don't know why I can't sleep, why my chest inexplicably tightens up around her the last two days.

She moves her lips with mine, raising her hand to cup the side of my face. "Is something wrong?" she asks quietly when I pull away.

"No, baby. I just need to take care of some stuff I've been putting off," I insist, kissing her lips again and then her forehead before I stand up. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah," she answers, but her usually-animated voice falls flat. I know I'm responsible for that. I just don't know how to fix it right now.

After saying goodbye, I walk out to the kitchen, find the key and then let myself out, locking the deadbolt from outside. I turn away from the door and lean back against the wall beside it, looking down at the key in my hand. Fuck. Should I put it on my keychain or in my pocket?

If I put it on my keychain, what does that mean? That I'm planning to use it regularly… that it's not just for occasional or emergency use. With my other hand, I pull my keychain from my pocket and study the keys attached to it: Car, bar, office, safe, condo. That's it. I have a key to my parents' house. It's in a drawer in my kitchen. I have a key to Emmett's. It's in the same drawer.

I haven't had a key to a girl's place since sophomore year of college. Sighing, I close my eyes and swallow. I usually try to avoid thinking about that shit, about _her_. It's not fair to Bella that I compare them, even if it's only in my head and only for a minute. The way I feel about Bella is so much different… and I know her so much better… but still. Fuck. Now my chest hurts again.

Pushing off the wall, I walk down the stairs to the parking lot and out to my car, pressing the unlock button on the car remote. I take one last look at the single key in my left hand… then put it in my pocket.

* * *

When I get home, I text Emmett and tell him to take the day off if he's feeling shitty. I'm tired, so I flop down on the couch and channel surf for a few minutes. After scanning through every fucking cable channel three times without finding anything to watch, I sit up. I'm still fucking jumpy. I don't want to go to the bar this early though. Pushing myself up with a sigh, I head for the treadmill.

It only takes me a few minutes to build up to a decent pace. Grabbing the clicker, I turn the television in here on to ESPN, my usual… but it doesn't hold my attention for long. My mind keeps drifting back to Bella. I can't understand what's changed in the last three days, can't understand what's wrong with me. I'm not even sure if I want to see her later today – and I don't know why.

Maybe it's because everybody is pushing me around with her. Rose and her sex ban. Emmett constantly bugs me about treating her right. My parents invited us to the fucking Nutcracker ballet next Friday night, which is _exactly_ what I wanted to do… spend my night off double-dating with my parents. Little Alice got in on it right before Thanksgiving, too, cornering me at the bar one night to fucking lecture me.

More agitated now, I push the treadmill speed higher as I remember that conversation…

"_Edward, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asks as I come out of the storage room._

"_Uh, sure," I answer hesitantly, stopping and leaning back against the wall of the hallway. I look out toward the bar and see Bella sitting beside Jasper._

"_I know Bella told you about her dad," she begins, then waits until I turn back to her before she continues. "She's going to be very emotional this week, you know. I mean, she won't show it…'cause she's always trying to be tough. You know that about her, right?"_

"_Right," I answer slowly, not letting my guard down yet… unsure what she wants. _

"_I mean, that's how she was raised… with her dad. She's doesn't like to show weakness," she says._

"_She's not weak," I argue, frowning._

_Alice pauses in her diatribe to look at me with surprise, her dark, archy eyebrows shooting halfway up her forehead. "Well, that's encouraging… the way you immediately jumped to her defense," she nods. "I didn't mean she's weak. I just meant that she will try to act like nothing's bothering her. She won't ask for what she needs."_

_You're wrong, Alice, I think to myself. Bella does ask me for what she needs. I glance over to the bar again. Jasper is turned toward Bella talking to her with his hand on her forearm, but she's looking nervously at me. I smile at her so she'll know I'm okay, then wait until she smiles back before I look at Alice again._

"_I know Rose went all Eighteenth Amendment on you and made you an involuntary sex teetotaler… and I know that you and Bella are planning to make your own decision," she informs me as I raise my right hand to stretch across my forehead, using my thumb and middle finger to rub my suddenly-throbbing temples. "Just – don't let her make that decision this week, okay?"_

_Fucking Christ. If one more person tries to tell us what to do about our goddamned relationship, I'm going to lose it. But I don't think yelling at Alice will help the situation. So I take a deep breath before I lower my hand and start talking._

"_Alice, look," I say, then raise my voice a little when I see her getting ready to interrupt. "I will do anything I can to help Bella get through this week. But all the other stuff… that's really just between her and me. And the best thing for us would be if all of you would butt the fuck out. I know you have good intentions, but please… just back off, okay?"_

Amazingly, that shut her up… at least temporarily. And I beat a path back out front before she could get her thoughts together enough to say anything else. She seemed okay though and she even hugged me goodbye when she and Jasper left. So I guess I passed whatever the fuck test that was.

Breathing hard now, I take a drink from my water bottle, still running fast. I grab the bottom of my shirt, lifting it to wipe my sweaty face and then pulling it off completely and hanging it from the handrail. I try to pay attention to the NFL pre-game show that's on, but my fucking brain wanders right back to Bella on its own within a couple of minutes.

Maybe we've been spending too much time together. I mean, fuck, I can't remember the last time I hung out this much with one person. I've always liked having my own space. Before Rose and Emmett hooked up, I used to get irritated at him because he never fucking left my place. But it's different with guys – I could just tell him to fucking get lost when I wanted to be alone. I would never say that to Bella… I don't want to hurt her.

Fucking hell. My chest feels tight again. I stop the treadmill and get off, bending over to put my hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. When I look up at the television, the camera is zooming in on some blonde cheerleader in Boston as the show fades to commercial. She's hot – big blue eyes, pouty red lips, great fucking tits. I stare at her until she's gone, then stand up and walk to my room to shower.

As I stand under the steamy spray, I close my eyes and picture the cheerleader from TV… she reminds me of a little blonde that hung around the bar early last summer. She made no secret of the fact that she wanted me. Reaching down, I stroke myself as I think about the night she pulled me into the backseat of her car. Groaning quietly, I remember how she sucked me into her warm mouth, didn't protest when I came there, and then hand jobbed me back into hardness and rode the hell out of me. I ignored her when she came into the bar the next night… and the night after that… and the night after that. It was four goddamned days before she finally got the hint that I wasn't interested in a repeat fuck. But I jacked off for the rest of the summer remembering that night.

Until I met Bella.

Christ. I let go of my dick. It wasn't working anyway. I wash my hair and body, standing face-first under the spray to rinse. This time when I close my eyes, I see Bella – her smiling face, her beautiful eyes… the way she bites her lip when she's close to coming.

Jesus, eight nights ago she was all over me, undressing me on the couch… kissing me… touching me. It was one of the best nights of my life, and not just because of the physical stuff. It was also the way I felt when she said she feels safe with me. And when she let me strip her bare, let me put my mouth on her, I knew she really trusts me.

I haven't tried to get her naked since then; I know I don't have the willpower to keep doing that shit without going farther. Opening my eyes, I look down at my cock – fucking hard as hell now that I've been thinking about Bella. I wrap my hand around myself, stroking slowly as I remember her small hands on me… her soft skin under me. I let my eyes slide closed and my head drop back, feel the water beating against my neck and chest. Tugging myself faster, I imagine how fucking great it will feel when I finally get inside her. I wonder if she'll ever be comfortable enough to give me head.

Fucking shit. Just the thought of her lips wrapped around me is enough to drive me over the edge, panting and groaning her name.

Still gasping for breath a minute later, I lower my head again and lean forward, putting my hands against the cool tile wall in front of me. What the fuck is wrong with me? Jesus, I'm crazy about this girl… so why the feeling of dread? Why do I feel a little bit resentful toward her the last couple of days?

As I get out and dry off, I try to come up with an answer. While I pick up the dirty clothes I've left lying around for the last few days, I try to come up with an answer. When I turn into the bar parking lot and sigh in relief that Bella's truck isn't parked beside her studio door, I settle on the only reason that makes sense to me: I'm a prick who doesn't fucking deserve her.

* * *

Inside the bar, I put glasses away. Fill the garnish station. Wipe down the barstools. The whole time, the key to Bella's apartment is burning a hole in my pocket. I constantly rub my hand over the denim to make sure I haven't lost it… but I haven't put it on my keychain either. I don't know what to do… and if I keep acting like an asshole, she'll probably just ask for it back anyway before I get a chance to use it.

Fuck. That makes my chest hurt and pisses me off at the same time. Irritated as hell with myself, I finally take the key out of my pocket and angrily toss it down on top of my desk next to my car keys and smokes.

By the time other employees arrive, my negative attitude has deteriorated into pure animosity. I can tolerate Lauren and the kitchen guys, but Tanya starts needling me as soon as she gets here, asking stupid questions, making fucking annoying comments. I huff at her, snap at her, cuss at her… and she keeps coming back for more.

A few minutes before we open, I head to the storage room. I know Lauren's following me, but I don't acknowledge her.

"E, you know she takes that as encouragement, right?" Lauren asks me quietly as soon as we're alone in the room.

"What?" I shrug, walking to the back shelf to get extra coasters and napkins. Behind me, I hear Lauren filling a box with bottles of liquor on the small table in the middle of the room.

"The bickering. Tanya thinks you're interested when you pay her the slightest bit of attention," Lauren insists. Turning around from the shelves to look at her, I see she has assumed Rose's favorite impatient stance, arms crossed over her chest and one foot tapping impatiently.

"I'm not interested," I grumble, turning back around.

"No shit. I'm just saying, don't egg her on. She'll do something to screw you over… or something to try to screw up what you have with Bella," Lauren says.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I mutter at her, not even trying to hide the frustration in my voice.

Typically, Lauren is unflappable and laughs at me. "Don't be an ass to me, Edward. What the hell is wrong with you today?"

"Nothing," I answer, but I know I still sound cranky. I turn around just in time to see Lauren roll her eyes my way as she grabs the box from the table and walks out.

She gives me a wide berth for the first hour that we're open, not really ignoring me, but clearly staying out of my way. Tanya continues trying to start shit with me, trying to provoke me into reacting to whatever idiotic statement she makes. Although it takes a lot of effort, I stop reacting to anything she does.

An hour into the Seahawks game, the crowd is happy since we're ahead… but I'm still in a shitty mood. Wanting to get away from everyone, I step over the yellow "Caution" tape on the stairs and go up to the construction area on the second floor. It doesn't look a lot different than it did last week, but I haven't had a chance to be up here alone – to really try to get a visual of how the upstairs will look when it's finished.

For several minutes, I walk around slowly, studying the room from different angles, figuring out how I want it to look – the bar, the tables, the games. The blueprints are hanging on the exposed brick wall for the framers and I stand staring at them for a couple of minutes. I'm starting to feel better – until I hear footsteps on the stairs. Fuck. It's probably Bella. I'm definitely not ready to see her. I take a deep breath and try to formulate what I want to say.

"Hey, I –," I begin as I turn around, but it's not Bella who's standing at the top of the stairs. "Victoria. What are you doing here?"

"I came by last night, but missed you. I took a chance that I could catch you today," she says, smiling at me.

She's advancing toward me slowly, wearing her trademark short-ass skirt and high heels. As she walks, she shifts her hips exaggeratedly from side to side and tosses her hair as she grins slyly at me.

"Or are you already caught?" she asks throatily as she stops in front of me.

"What the fuck does that mean? I'm not in the mood to play games today, Victoria," I say tiredly, reaching one hand up to grasp the back of my neck. She knows I was pissed at her early last week. It took her three days longer than she said it would to do the bathroom redraws. The whole fucking construction crew was sitting around waiting on her.

"It means are you and that little dancer serious?" she asks, leaning forward so that her chest is almost touching mine. "Or are you still available for fooling around?"

"Uh, sorry, Victoria," I say, my eyes darting around the room. I take a step back, leaning against the wall because I feel like she's standing too close. I force myself to look her in the eye as I continue. "I'm pretty tied up right now."

"Hmm," she says, tilting her head to the side a bit and then licking her lips. I'd be willing to bet she practices this look in the mirror. "Are you sure? No one would have to know… you know?"

For a second, I think – well, my dick thinks – this could be a good idea. She's pretty. She has a great body. At our first meeting in July, she flirted with me and I flirted back, but I wasn't about to risk screwing up this project by screwing her before it was completed. Back then, I figured we'd fuck once it was over though.

But then Bella moved in next door and everything changed. Since the first time I kissed her, I haven't really considered being with anyone else… and that kind of pisses me off. There's a good-looking woman with long fucking legs standing in front of me, propositioning me… but I couldn't be less interested.

Looking into Victoria's blue eyes doesn't make my heart race. The thought of my hands on her skin doesn't twist my gut. I don't smile when I see her just because it's _her_.

I could fuck Victoria, but that's all it would be. It wouldn't be dinners and hanging out and watching movies and laughing. It wouldn't be sneaking my hand under her shirt to rest on her warm back while she's sleeping. It wouldn't be listening to the fucking sighing all night long. Or trying to pull her out from under the covers where she burrows every goddamned night.

I could fuck her… but I realized a few months ago that just fucking isn't enough for me anymore. I chuckle lightly and Victoria smiles, probably thinking that I'm considering her offer.

I'm not.

I nod. "I'm sure, Victoria," I answer.

Her eyes turn ice cold as her smile twists into a sneer. "Then you can forget about me doing all these redraws for free," she hisses. She's probably not used to being turned down. Hell, I'm not used to turning women down either.

"No problem," I answer, stepping around her and heading for the stairs, anxious now to get the fuck away from her. "Just send me a bill."

"You'll regret this," she predicts, her high heels clicking quickly across the floor to catch up with me. I doubt it. I can't think of any bitch I've ever regretted _not_ fucking. "Who the fuck replaced the fun guy I met last summer with a sixteen year-old pussy-whipped boy?

"Jesus, Victoria. Shut up," I seethe, walking down the stairs. I'm even more aggravated when I get to the bottom and see that she pulled the yellow tape completely down. I pick it up, then wait for her to pass so I can reattach it.

She stops right in front of me, standing a stair above me, and pressing her tits into my face. "People like us don't change, Edward. Call me when you come to your senses," she whispers huskily, trailing a finger down my cheek. I keep my eyes on hers, not because I'm attracted to her… because I don't fucking trust her.

When she finally passes me, I fix the tape and then turn around. She's walking out, shaking her hips the same way she did upstairs… and I watch for a few seconds. I know I shouldn't, but she really does have a nice ass.

Running my hand through the top of my hair, I turn to my left to head back behind the bar… and meet a harsh blue glare.

"Motherfuck," I whisper under my breath as I walk toward him.

"What the fuck are you up to, Edward?" he growls when I reach him.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Emmett?" I retort, turning sideways to pass behind him. One of the guys I was waiting on earlier catches my eye and signals for another round. "I told you to stay home."

"Are you cheating on Tiny?"

"What?" I ask, whipping around to face his piercing eagle eyes again.

"You were upstairs with that red-headed witch… _alone_… then you were checking out the view from the back as she left," he fumes. "You two screwing around?"

"No, dickhead," I answer as I grab beers for the guy and his two friends. I open them, set them down in front of the men and add it to their tab. For the next few minutes, I ignore Emmett completely as I pick up empty glasses, noisily put away liquor bottles and repeatedly huff when I have to step around Emmett, who's intentionally blocking my way every time.

I slide my eyes his way the thirtieth time I pass him and see that instead of glaring at me, he's now studying me intently. There's no one to wait on right now, so I cross my arms over my chest, lean back against the bar, and look up at the flatscreen just in time to see the Seahawks score. The room erupts in cheers and applause.

"You and Tiny fighting or something?" Emmett asks quietly, moving to stand beside me. Neither of us looks at the other, but I know this is his peace offering.

"No," I respond, then change the subject. I don't want to talk about Bella right now. "You and Rose have a good time last night?" I ask as _my_ peace offering.

"You mean at the party or once we got home?" he replies then grunts lowly a couple of times. Emmett's not ever really crude about my sister, so I know he's trying to amuse me.

"Jesus, you fucker. That's disgusting. I don't want to hear it," I groan, laughing for the first time today. The laughter is short-lived though and I'm right back to acting like an ass in a few minutes.

He lets me simmer for a while, then corners me again at one end of the bar to ask what my problem is, saying he knows it has something to do with Bella. Exhaling loudly, I give in and spill it.

"I don't know what the fuck's bugging me," I complain. "I feel weird – kind of mad at her even though there's no reason for me to be. I can't fucking sleep the last two nights and I couldn't get away from her fast enough this morning."

He's nodding along with me by the time I'm done talking.

"Yeah… you're freaking out," he states simply, then turns away.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I ask, gripping his shoulder until he faces me again.

"You… are… freaking… out," he repeats loudly and slowly like I'm ninety fucking years old and can't hear him. "Don't worry… it's a classic reaction for most guys. You're in a relationship with a woman that's starting to feel kinda serious, right? Not like you're just dating?"

He looks expectantly at me, but I'm not ready to talk about that. I shrug ambiguously.

Nodding as if I answered him, he continues. "No matter how happy you are with her, your psyche will start trying to fuck it up so you don't end up in a," he pauses and clutches his throat as if he has to struggle to say the next words, "c-c… c-c… committed relationship."

"Did you freak out with Rose?" I ask as he drops his hands, laughing at his own stupid stunt.

"Nah," he answers dismissively, pausing to look up at the television when the room erupts in applause again. "Nice. Seahawks intercepted. But _I'm_ not afraid to commit." He lowers his gaze to meet mine again.

"Neither am I," I insist.

He laughs like a goddamned hyena at that statement. "Yeah, that's why you haven't dated anyone in six years," he says, raising his eyebrows at me. I glare at him angrily for a moment.

"Fuck you," I say under my breath, turning away from him.

He steps away to fill an order for Tanya, leaving me alone to think about what he said. When he gets back to me, I ask quietly, "So you think I'm just freaking out about the relationship part?"

He shrugs, ramping my irritation right back up. "Probably. Tiny doesn't annoy you otherwise, right?"

"Right," I answer.

"You're not pissed that you guys aren't having sex, right?"

"Right," I nod.

He shrugs again. "You gonna see her later?"

Before I have a chance to answer, Lauren appears beside Emmett.

"If you two chicks are done talking about your feelings over here, I could use some help," she jokes, sliding in between us. "Unless you're heading to the back room to have a pillow fight in your undies."

Laughing, Emmett slings an arm around her shoulders and walks to the other end of the bar with her. I wait on the guys at my end of the bar and I fill a couple of orders for Tanya, still trying to ignore all her snide comments… until she starts in on Bella.

"Haven't seen what's-her-face around today," she says as I set beers on her tray. I put ice in two glasses and grab the bottle of Jack, pouring it into the glasses with one hand while I shoot Coke from the beverage gun with the other. "Did you _finally_ come to your senses?"

"What?" I huff, setting the drinks down on the tray and then looking at her.

"Oh, come on, Edward," she chuckles. "Everyone knows you're not boyfriend material – well, everyone except the naïve girl next door. What a dumb bitch."

"I'm looking at the only dumb bitch I know," I say angrily, pushing the tray across the bar toward her. Tanya cackles loudly as she walks away after getting the outburst she probably wanted.

Since everyone's on my last fucking nerve, I tell Emmett that I'm taking a break and go back to my office, shutting the door behind myself. I sit at my desk and turn on the laptop, then notice my cigarettes and keys laying on top of the desk where I left them hours ago. Picking up the key to Bella's apartment, I turn it over and over in my hand, not surprised when the chest-tightening, gut-twisting feeling appears again. Opening the drawer in front of me, I sweep my smokes and car keys in and then drop Bella's key in, too. Out of sight, out of mind, I think as I slam the drawer shut.

Determined to do something productive today, I get started on all the year-end stuff the accountant will need and try not to think about Bella anymore. An hour later, I'm pretty engrossed in the profit and loss statement I'm working on, so I barely glance at the door when it opens. I shift my eyes long enough to see my sister come in, but I don't make eye contact. What the fuck is she doing here? She's not scheduled to work today.

She stands in front of my desk and waits. Since I'm still in a bad fucking mood, I don't speak, or even acknowledge her presence. I know this will get me in trouble with her, but I really don't give a shit at the moment.

"Well, hello, Edward. I'm fine, thanks for asking," she says sarcastically. She heaves a big shopping bag up and drops it onto my desk with a thud. I look out of the corner of my eye, wondering what's in the big Crate and Barrel bag, but not wanting her to know I'm curious.

She stands still in front of me for another minute, then sighs loudly. I know she's gonna really get pissed in about a minute, so I finally look up, pushing my laptop to the side.

"What the fuck do you want, Rose?"

"Oh, there's my sweet baby brother," she sneers. "Emmett said you were being a douche. What's up your ass today?"

"I've got a sister who's bossing me around, a waitress who's a total fucking bitch, a bartender who makes fun of me most of the time and an architect who's trying to get me to stick my dick in her," I complain. "Women. Women are up my ass today."

Smiling, Rose shakes her head at me. "You're so melodramatic," she laughs. "Just like mom."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter under my breath, covering my face with my hands and leaning back in my desk chair. "Why can't everyone just leave me alone?"

"It's a conspiracy," she says flatly. "Everyone's trying to ruin your day… because it's all about you in your little world, isn't it? Jesus, you're an arrogant prick."

"That's not really news to me."

I hear the crinkle of the paper bag and drop my hands. Rose is picking it up from the top of my desk. Since I've just admitted to being a prick, I grab it, yanking it from her grasp and looking inside.

"What the fuck is this shit?" I grumble. "Candles… candles… more candles. Jesus. How many motherfucking candles are in here?"

"Enough to make even _you_ look romantic," she says testily. "Give them back. I'm not letting you have them now." She leans across my desk, trying to take the bag back.

"Why do I have to be romantic? Are you lifting the ban?" I ask, rolling my chair back a few inches so I'm just out of her reach.

"No, but I want you to be prepared in case I have a sudden change of heart. And just so we're clear, it's good to be romantic when you're not expecting sex, too," she says, putting a hip on the desk to extend her reach. When I scoot back farther then move the bag around as she grabs for it, she laughs… and so do I.

"You think you're gonna have this change of heart soon?" I ask. It doesn't really matter; the decision isn't about Rose at all. I won't do anything until Bella's ready even if Rose gives the green light today.

She shrugs. "You were pretty sweet on Thanksgiving. You did a good job making her comfortable at Mom and Dad's," she says. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes, looking thoughtfully at me. "How come you told Em and me not to ask about her family?"

"I'm not discussing that with you, Rosalie," I say, suddenly serious.

"Can I ask her about them now?" she asks.

"No. Just leave it alone, okay?" I insist. "Don't push her."

"Does she not have a family?"

"Goddamn it, Rosalie," I lay loudly. "Leave it alone."

I expect her to get mad… expect her to cuss me out, stomp out of the room, slam the door. I don't expect her to stand up and walk around the desk. She leans down, putting her arms around my shoulders to hug me and kiss my cheek.

"That's kind of a perfect answer, Edward," she says quietly. "You get to keep the candles. Make it nice for her, okay? I mean, when it's time."

Before I have the words to answer her, she's pulled away and gone out my office door, shutting it quietly behind herself.

Sighing heavily, I decide to go out for a smoke, hoping to calm my jittery nerves. I stash the bag of candles under my desk and roll my chair forward, yanking the desk drawer open to get my cigs. And there it is – the little gold key… taunting me. Holding it again, I close my eyes, rubbing them with the heels of my hands as I tilt my head back against the headrest. When I hear the office door open, I assume it's my sister coming to give me more shit.

"Fucking Christ, Rosalie," I groan. "What now?"

I hear her laugh before she speaks and my heart starts to race, my lips curve upward all on their own.

"Apparently your mood hasn't improved since this morning," Bella remarks as she shuts the door. Without lifting my head, I lower my hands and open my eyes to look at her. She's beautiful – smiling, eyes shining… wearing the hoody I gave her all those weeks ago and leaning against the closed office door. I feel the familiar tightening in my chest, but it doesn't bother me that much right now.

"Baby," I say, pushing my chair back from the desk. "Come here."

When she gets close enough, I reach for her, pulling her down to sit sideways on my lap. Wrapping my arms around her tightly, I bury my face in her neck. Fuck, she smells good. I feel her arms wind around my shoulders, her fingers sift through the hair at the nape of my neck, her lips press briefly against my temple.

"Are you having a bad day?" she asks gently.

"Yes," I mumble into her skin, nodding. Then I lift my head to look at her. "I mean, I was. Until now. I feel better now."

I raise one hand – the hand holding her key – to her jaw, keeping my fingers curled around the key while stroking my thumb along her cheek. I chuckle once as I look at her, amazed at how much calmer I feel now that she's here. It's strange that she's both the problem and the solution. Maybe this is what it feels like when you date someone who's also become one of your best friends.

"What are you smiling about?" she asks, frowning and smirking at the same time. Fuck, she's adorable.

"You," I answer, leaning in to kiss her lips gently… and once I start, I can't stop. I nibble at her lips until she finally opens up and deepens the kiss. She hmms into my mouth and grips my hair more tightly as she slides her tongue against mine. By the time we break apart minutes later, we're both breathing heavily. I press my lips against her neck as she sighs quietly.

"You sigh all night long," I say quietly, smiling against her skin.

She laughs lightly before she answers. "I do? Does it drive you crazy?"

Yeah, it does. But not in the way she means. All the little fucking noises she makes in bed drive me crazy.

"No, ballerina," I answer, not ready to confess that to her. Lifting my head, I stare into her warm, brown eyes.

She smiles as she reaches up to grasp the hand I still have resting against her jaw. I'm looking at her and not really paying attention to what she's doing until she's pried my fingers open and is staring at the single gold key.

"Why are you holding my key?" she asks, frowning at it… not looking at me.

"I didn't take time to put it on my keychain yet," I answer, scrambling to not look like the asshole I've acted like all day. "I'll do it right now."

Swallowing audibly, I reach around her to lift my other keys out of the desk drawer. Nervously, I slide her key into place next to my condo key. I wait for the tension to return, anticipate the pressure I assume I'll feel in my chest… but it doesn't come. As I study all the keys in my hand, I decide hers looks pretty fucking good next to mine. It's like I'm holding all the things that are the most important to me in the palm of my hand… my business, my condo, my ballerina. And my car. I still fucking love that car.

Now my goddamned chest feels tight again – but not because of the Mustang… and not because I'm scared.

Looking up, I find Bella smiling at me and I smile back. As I toss the keys into the air and catch them when they come back down, only one thought crosses my mind: What was I so afraid of?

* * *

**A/N: So, I had to split this part off from the next chapter because it was way too long. The next chapter is done - being edited...will post in a few days. :) It's Nic's reward for being sooooo patient...**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: It's long, so I won't talk. :)**

**Big thanks to windgirl810 for beta-ing this chap several times. I'm not sure, but this may be the most times we've ever pulled apart and pieced back together one chapter. I love you and greatly appreciate the time you put into helping me! :)**

**Michelle0526 preread...again...several times. :) Flove you. Move here.**

**My terrific friends Littlecat358 and tennesseelamb make me smile...and calm me down when I freak the freak out.**

**Lovely Nic gives me way more attention than I deserve - and if you're counting, Nic (and you were counting when I was updating that other story more regularly than this one), this is three in a row. LOL I love you!**

**Thanks so much for reading... hope you like this one.**

* * *

EPOV

Just before 6:30 on Wednesday night, I grab a to-go cup and fix Bella a Diet Coke as Emmett eyes me from a couple of feet away. When I glance at him, he's smirking. I can tell he's got something to say, but he stays quiet until I put the straw through the lid and pick up the cup.

"Going to see Tiny?"

"Yeah," I respond. "I just want to say hi." She won't have long to talk because she still has two more classes to teach. But I wasn't at the bar when she got to the studio tonight, and I played poker and drank tequila last night until almost three, so I crashed at my own place.

"Meep meep," he says as I pass him.

"What the fuck is that?" I laugh curiously, turning to face him.

"It's the sound of the minivan you'll be driving in five years," he grins, slinging the bar towel in his hand over his shoulder. "You're a goner."

Jesus. I knew by his smirk that he was going to make fun of me, but I didn't think it would be about this.

"Shut the fuck up, dickhead," I grouse. "How long until _you're_ hauling a carload of whiners around?"

"Probably three years," he says with a shrug.

I feel my mouth drop open… that answer genuinely surprises me. Emmett and I have never talked about this shit before.

"It will have to be an SUV though. Can you see Rose in a mini?" he laughs and shakes his head. "She'd try to run me over with it if I bought one."

I'm still standing with my mouth hanging open, staring at him.

"You think I'm just fucking around with your sister?" he asks, apparently insulted by my silence. He yanks the towel from his shoulder and slaps it down on top of the bar. "I love her. I'd ask her to marry me today if she would say yes. But she wants to finish school first."

Finally, I snap my teeth together. "Emmett, we're gonna have to drink whiskey if you want to continue this conversation," I mumble. Jesus. My best friend wants to marry my fucking sister and have kids… fuck. I know he loves her, but… fuck.

Grinning once more, he chuckles and shakes his head. "No, no. We'll do it another time. Go see your girl."

I'm still half-stunned as I walk across the parking lot to Bella's studio. I go in through the side door – it's _still_ never locked – and walk past her dark office toward the front of the building… then belatedly remember why I don't come over here this early in the evening. There are 150 fucking tiny, pink-wearing ballerinas twirling around in the lobby… or at least 20 of them. It's a lot of fucking pink.

I spot Bella by the front door, standing with her back to me and talking to another woman. She's dressed exactly like the little girls, except her stuff is all black. I see her wearing dance clothes almost every day, but I don't usually get to look at her from the back. Standing still, I stare at her – her long legs, her sculpted shoulders, her exposed neck – until the little pinkies start looking at me and giggling.

Bella turns around to peek at the laughing girls, and then smiles when she sees me. She holds a finger up for me to wait and I nod at her. The mini ballerinas are all still staring at me with their beady eyes, making me nervous. I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot and put my empty hand in my front pocket. A minute later, Bella turns around and walks toward me.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" she smiles, taking the cup and immediately drinking from the straw.

"I haven't seen you since early last night," I shrug, both hands now stuffed in my front pockets.

"And?" she asks.

"And I wanted to see you," I say quietly. "Can I kiss you in here?"

"No," she laughs, looking down at the little girls still around us.

"Hug you?" She shakes her head, but reaches for my forearm, squeezing gently. I pull that hand from my pocket and grasp hers, holding it loosely and swiping my thumb across the backs of her fingers. "Uh, I talked to Emmett and he's gonna cover the bar for the weekend," I say.

"Are you going somewhere?" she asks, frowning slightly.

"We have that thing with my parents Friday night," I remind her.

"You know there are going to be men dancing around in tights, right?" she asks gently, but she's smirking at me. "Are you sure you want to go?"

Fuck, no, I don't want to go. But as my dad pointed out the other day when he called, this is the kind of shit you do when you're dating someone. When I saw the way her eyes lit up after I told her they had invited us to the ballet, I felt that goddamned tightness in my chest again. But I'm starting to accept that my chest is tight for another reason besides freaking out.

"Yeah, ballerina," I answer. "Maybe we can go out afterward since we'll already be downtown." She nods and takes another sip of her soda. "I'm taking the rest of the weekend off, too… and I want to spend it with you."

She holds the straw between her teeth as her lips slowly curve up into a slight smile. Then she puckers to take one more drink before she answers. "I'm baking cookies this weekend for all the dance classes. We have holiday parties next week," she stalls, not really agreeing… but not turning me down flat either.

Encouraged, I shrug one shoulder and smirk at her. "I have a pretty big kitchen," I remark, squeezing her hand. "You could use it if you stay with me."

My fucking heart is pounding as I wait for some indication that she's going to say yes. I can't tell from her face – she doesn't look convinced.

"Are you sure?" she asks uncertainly. "Last weekend…"

"Last weekend I acted like a pri-," I rush to explain, and then remember there are a bunch of kids in the room. Smiling sheepishly, I stop and try to think of a different word to describe myself. Dick, asshole, shithead, douche, motherfucker. Jesus. They're all true, but I can't say any of them in here. Finally, I come up with a G-rated version. "Jerk. I'm sorry." I say it quietly, looking at her and hoping she can see how sincere I am.

"I don't want to… be all up in your space," she says teasingly, but I know there's some underlying truth in her statement. I never explained what was going on Sunday, only saying I woke up in a bad mood. She probably gets that it was somehow related to her – she almost always sees through my bullshit explanations. But I spent Sunday and Monday nights at her apartment without freaking out again.

"I want you in my space," I counter, sliding my fingers in between hers.

"Are you Mr. Bella?" a high-pitched voice asks. I turn my head and look down at the kid I didn't even notice approaching.

Bella replies before I have to. "No, Abby," she says patiently. "This is Mr. Cullen."

"Are you Miss Bella's boyfriend, Mr. Cullen?" she asks, her huge brown eyes still fixed on me. What a curious little shit. She's kind of cute in a little shit kind of way though.

"He's my friend, Abby," Bella states, saving me from having to answer again. What she said surprises me though. She doesn't consider me her boyfriend? What the fuck? I kiss her all the time. I've had my hands and mouth all over her.

I think of her as my girlfriend, but I guess we've never talked about it… I never introduce her that way. When she met Victoria a couple of weeks ago, I stayed silent, letting her speak for herself. When she stopped in to see me last night before I left for poker, a couple of my buddies were at the bar to pick me up… and I introduced her as the owner of the dance studio next door.

I'm gonna need to fix that shit.

"Bella," I begin.

"I'll think about the weekend, okay?" she says, smiling slightly at me. "I gotta go." She squeezes my fingers before releasing my hand. I watch as she herds all the pinkies into a room and then shuts the door.

I'm turning to go back out the way I came in when the studio door opens a crack and Bella sticks her head through.

"Thanks for the drink, Edward," she says softly as I walk toward her. "Um… if you want, you can use your key later."

"I'm closing, so it will be late," I warn her.

She smiles up at me as I stop right in front of her. "I remember," she nods, then crooks her finger. When I lean down, she pecks my lips quickly, pulling away before I even have a chance to kiss her back. "See ya later."

She disappears and shuts the door, then I hear the music start inside the room, hear her voice as she calls out instructions to the ballerinas. I just stand there, listening. When I feel the pressure in my chest this time, I'm pretty sure I know what it is… and I smile.

* * *

When we get to the theater Friday night, my parents are waiting in the lobby. Bella and I are a few minutes late – she was ready when I got to her apartment to pick her up, but she looked so fucking good that I couldn't help kissing her… and then I couldn't _stop_ kissing her. We made out for several minutes standing just inside her door, and then she had to put on new lipstick – and I had to get her old lipstick off of me. My parents both like Bella, so they'll probably just assume we're late because of me… and I guess that's technically right.

My mom is a patron at McCaw Hall, meaning she gives them a shitload of money every year, so someone takes our coats and brings us champagne when we go up to the second level of the auditorium. We have a few minutes to drink it and then we're shown to our VIP box seats. Bella and my mom sit beside each other, leaving Dad and me to sit on each end of the four-seat box.

Once the lights go out, I reach to my left and grab Bella's hand, then pull it over to rest on my knee. Since I've never been to the ballet before, I'm not exactly sure what to expect. As it turns out, it's fucking boring. There's no talking at all, just music and dancing… and there's a creepy magician. I have trouble staying awake and when the lights finally come on, I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Edward, Bella and I are going to the ladies room. Why don't you and Dad get us a drink?" my mom says as they stand.

I feel my eyebrows shoot toward my hairline and glance at my dad.

"The intermission is about twenty minutes long, son," he says. Interfuckingmission? This goddamned thing is only half over? I barely refrain from groaning and dropping my head back, but I manage to nod and smile as I stand up to let the women out.

"Jesus Christ, Dad," I mutter as we walk out to the bar. "You didn't tell me I was gonna need a case of NoDoz to make it through this."

He laughs and claps a hand on my shoulder. "Edward, this is the first of many things you'll attend under silent protest if you stay in a relationship," he advises, which doesn't make me feel any fucking better at all. "But did you see Bella's face? She's really enjoying it. Sometimes that's the only pleasure you get out of going to these kinds of events."

"Yeah, I saw," I admit grudgingly. I watched her some during the dancing – and it was better than what was happening on stage. She loved it. She loved it so much that I'll probably bring her to see something else sometime. But I'll definitely remember to drink a shitload of Red Bull first.

"Your mom and I are going to a jazz club when the ballet is over. Would you and Bella like to join us?" he asks.

"Uh, thanks, Dad, but I think we're gonna go somewhere else. I haven't been very good about taking her out lately," I shrug. "There are some cool bars down here."

He nods and smiles. "See? You're learning already," he says as we step up to the bar. "Something she likes, then something you like. Everybody wins."

"Two white, two red," I tell the bartender, then turn back to my dad. "Maybe I'll drag her to a Mariners game in the spring."

He shakes his head. "I wouldn't recommend it, son, unless she already likes sports. I took your mom once," he shares. "_Once_.She talked the whole time… asked questions about every single thing, gave a commentary on the uniforms and was afraid the manager was being mean to the umpire when they argued about a call. It was torture."

I'm still laughing as I see Mom and Bella approaching from my left. Turning my head toward them, I watch Bella, watch the way the black silky fabric of her dress moves around her legs as she walks. The dress has long sleeves that are split open from shoulder to wrist, exposing her smooth, ivory skin every time she moves her arm. She looks fucking fantastic. Inhaling sharply, I pick up my red wine and Bella's white and walk to her, completely ignoring my parents.

As she takes her wineglass from me, I bend down to kiss her, sliding my hand inside the sleeve of her dress to cup her elbow.

"You look great," I murmur against her lips. "Did I already tell you that tonight?"

"Yes," she smiles against my lips, holding her glass between us. "But it's okay if you keep saying it."

"You're better than all those other dancers, too," I continue, looking straight into her eyes.

Laughing quietly, she reaches one hand to my neck and holds me in place while she kisses me again. "No, I'm not. But it's sweet of you to say that."

"It's true," I insist, linking our free hands together and turning toward my parents – who are both staring at us and smiling. I see Bella turning pink out of the corner of my eye, so I try to get their attention focused on me. "What?" I ask my parents. "Not used to seeing me fucking domesticated yet?"

It works. They laugh – even though my mom chides me for cussing – and then we spend the next ten minutes standing, sipping our wine and talking – as couples, which is really weird for me. After we set the glasses aside and begin walking back toward our seats, Dad asks Bella several questions about her studio. I can't stop staring at her as she answers… captivated by the way she smiles when she talks about the kids, by the sound of her voice as it rises with excitement, by the feeling of her hand as it moves to wrap around my bicep. Squeezing lightly, she tells my parents about my panic at being surrounded by the little ballerinas a couple of nights ago. Mom and Dad think that's pretty fucking funny.

"They're scary," I shrug as we step into the box.

"Edward, you're always very good with Aunt Maggie's kids," my mom remarks.

"Aunt Maggie has boys," I reply. "I can play sports and wrestle around with them. It's little girls that scare me."

"Well, you'll have to be brave because they're coming for Christmas," she says, taking her seat. "You remember the new baby is a girl, right?"

"They're bringing the whole fucking brat factory west?" I groan, but I'm kidding. I like it when they're all here for the holidays.

"Edward," my mom warns.

"Uh, sorry," I chuckle, glancing over at her apologetically, but she doesn't seem appeased; she's staring me down, looking directly at me as I sit, before sliding her eyes to Bella and then back to me. Bella has gone quiet in her seat and is reading through her program. Oh, fuck. The holidays… we haven't even discussed that yet.

"Ballerina," I whisper, putting my arm around the back of her chair and sliding my fingers inside her sleeve to rest on the bare skin of her upper arm. "Are you going to Forks for Christmas?"

"No," she whispers without looking up.

"Then will you spend it with me? I know it's still ten days away and you could decide to dump my ass by then," I say lowly, smiling when she turns to look at me after that statement. "And you'll have to put up with my fucking sister and all my little cousins, but I really want my Aunt Maggie to meet you." It's the truth. Aunt Maggie and I have always been close… I've always wanted her approval on the big things. And Bella is starting to feel like a pretty big thing.

"You do?" she smiles.

"Yeah, of course. She's my favorite aunt… I want her to meet my girlfriend," I say, then swallow… I feel like I can't fucking breathe as I wait for her to say something.

She licks her lower lip, which makes me want to kiss her. She clears her throat quietly before she answers. "Um, won't that be awkward? If I'm there and your girlfriend is there, too?" she whispers.

Chuckling, I tighten my arm around her shoulder and lean down. "I was talking about you, Bella," I whisper in her ear. "But you knew that, didn't you? You just like screwing with me."

"I like everything with you, Edward," she whispers back, putting her lips against my ear… fucking turning me on with her low, husky voice and warm breath. "I can't imagine that screwing will be an exception to that rule." She kisses the spot right in front of my ear and then turns toward the stage as the lights go down for the next act.

Fucking hell. She definitely knows how to knock the goddamned wind out of me. I look at her profile, at her smug, satisfied smirk and realize that she knows exactly what she did. My dick anted up as soon as she breathed in my ear, and after the screwing talk, he's all-in. I don't think I'll have trouble staying awake now.

Still uncomfortable several minutes later, I decide to give her a taste of her own medicine. Sliding my hand down from her upper arm, I touch the inside curve of her elbow with my thumb, skimming lightly across the pulse point several times. After I hear her breath hitch, I curl my fingers in and brush the backs of my fingers up her arm… slowly.

When I reach her shoulder, I wrap my whole hand around the top of her arm, working my index and middle fingers under the strap of her bra, and then sliding them down little by little until they rest at the top of her left breast. She inhales deeply, and my fingers fall a little lower. Now _I'm_ the one with the smug smirk.

This certainly makes the fucking ballet more enjoyable.

I don't try to move my hand any lower, content to sweep my fingertips across her skin – so lightly that I barely touch her. I can feel her heart pounding in her chest. I see her lips part as her breaths come faster, so I tease a little more… stopping the movement of my fingers for a minute or two until I feel her breathing return to normal, and then starting again. She wiggles around a bit, but I know she's not going to make a big fuss with my mom sitting next to her.

I'm still fucking aroused, but at least now she is, too.

When the audience applauds for… something – I have no fucking idea what since I'm watching her instead of the dancing – she leans toward me.

"Your mom is going to notice," she whispers, breathing rapidly in my ear.

"You started it, baby," I answer, putting my lips right against her ear and then touching my tongue to her earlobe before she pulls away.

"Stop," she mouths at me. I shake my head, smiling. She smiles back and I think she's a little amused, but then she mouths, "Please."

Damn. That gets to me. Defeated, I move my hand up to her shoulder, squeezing gently, and then slide back down to her upper arm. She leans over against me for a minute before whatever's happening onstage captures her attention again and she sits up, leaning forward slightly. For most of the rest of the show, I watch _her_, only briefly sparing glances for the performance. Occasionally, she turns to look at me, but the rest of the time, she's focused on the dancing… and she never stops smiling.

When the fucking ballet is finally over, I'm out of my seat quickly, applauding along with everyone else, although I'm sure Bella and I are clapping for different reasons. Once we have our coats, we both thank my parents and then get the hell out of there.

Twenty minutes later, we're seated at a table in a loud, dark club. Now that we're alone, I can't keep my fucking hands off of her. Sitting close to her, I keep touching her arms, her back. I lean in to kiss her often. Twice I drag her onto the dance floor, keeping her out there for several songs, until she tells me her feet hurt from dancing in high heels.

It's almost two o'clock when we get to my building. As I get out my side of the car, I reach into the backseat to get her duffle bag – she finally agreed to stay for the weekend after I said I'd help make the cookies. On the elevator, she winds her arms around my neck to hug me.

"Thank you, Edward. I had so much fun tonight," she says, then yawns. My dick can see the writing on _this_ wall. She's tired; we're not getting any attention tonight.

"Me, too, baby," I say, holding her close.

Laughing, she leans back and looks up at me. "You did not," she says.

"I did," I insist. "I had fun being with you. But if we go to the ballet again, we're getting a private fucking box and not going with my parents." Sinking one of her hands in my hair, she pulls until I bend down, and then she kisses me until the elevator stops on my floor.

When we get inside my condo, she gets ready for bed while I text Emmett to see how things went at the bar tonight. As I expected, by the time I get to the bedroom ten minutes later, she's asleep under the covers. She sighs when I get in beside her and push my hand under the material of her tank top, resting my hand on her waist. As I close my eyes, I feel her burrowing down deeper into the covers… and tugging my pillow with me, I scoot down, too.

* * *

"Jesus, Ballerina, how many fucking," I begin, then chuckle when she looks sternly over her shoulder at me, "_freaking_ dozens of cookies are you baking?" I didn't slip up on purpose this time, but sometimes I do – it amuses her… and I fucking love the way she pretends to get mad. Shit, the frowning just about kills me… and my dick.

"I already told you how many, Edward," she answers patiently. "Besides, this batch is for you… and Emmett." She only added the Emmett part to piss me off. She knows there's no way I'm sharing these cookies.

"Ballerina," I warn teasingly, turning back around to continue my job and smiling when I hear her laughing behind me.

We've been at this all fucking day – well, since we got up at ten – working back-to-back in my kitchen. I frost the cookies at the counter; she mixes the dough and rolls it out on the island behind me. She told me I could quit after the first batch, but I really don't mind helping – and it smells fucking great in here. I'd rather be in here with her than watching television alone in the other room anyway.

"Oh, all right, you big baby. You can have them all," she concedes with a laugh. I'm still spreading green frosting on the last batch of tree-shaped cookies for her dance classes.

I went to get us coffee and donuts this morning, so maybe it's the caffeine and sugar rush, but she's chattered nonstop today – about Jacob's mom teaching her to bake, Alice's mom giving her this recipe, my mom trying to lure her over to do more Christmas baking next weekend. I've never heard her talk this much – it doesn't bug me or anything, it's just different than normal. I've grumbled a little about frosting the cookies while secretly stealing glances at her. She never got dressed, so she's still running around my kitchen in a tank top and plaid pajama pants that are hanging low on her hips.

"I do love sugar cookies," I say distractedly, putting the spatula down and turning around to watch as she slides the cookie sheet into the wall oven. She must feel my eyes on her because she turns to look at me over her shoulder again, then closes the oven and turns all the way around, biting her bottom lip… clearly trying not to laugh.

"What?" I ask, frowning.

"Lookin' good, chef," she jokes, pointing to my chest. She walks toward me as I glance down. Shit. The whole fucking front of my shirt is covered in frosting – I must have been wiping my hands across my chest without realizing it. She uses her fingernail to scratch some off my face, smiling widely.

She's a little too amused by this… and a little too clean. Reaching behind me, I dip my finger in the bowl of frosting and smear it across her cheek before she can stop me.

"Oh, my God!" she cries, batting my hand away, but she's laughing. She grabs the towel off the counter beside me to wipe her face… not paying attention to me, not noticing that I'm reloading. I smear a bright green streak across her other cheek. "Edward!"

She reaches around me to get her hand in the frosting, then rubs all four fingers of one hand across my mouth and down my chin.

"You're in for it now, ballerina," I warn, picking up the bowl and dipping my fingers in. Grinning, I set it down and stalk her as she tries to get away by backing toward the island. I grab her around the waist with my clean hand, using my coated hand to wipe frosting from her chin down her neck and onto her chest. Squirming in my grasp, she reaches behind her, getting a handful of flour and rubbing it in my hair.

We both laugh hard, looking at the mess we've made of each other. I lean down, intending to affectionately peck her lips. I kiss her twice, smiling as our frosted lips and chins stick together… pulling away to look in her eyes before lowering my head again. The third time, she sighs and wraps her arms around my neck… then licks across my bottom lip.

Groaning, I open my lips and suck her tongue into my mouth, wrapping both arms around her slim waist. She digs her fingernails into my upper back, holding me close as she slides her sugary tongue against mine. By the time I pull away a minute later, we're both breathing heavily. Moving my mouth to her chin, I use my teeth to scrape away most of the frosting left there, then sweep my tongue down her neck, pausing to suck lightly at the base of her throat. When she grips my hair tightly in her fist, I shift farther down, licking away the faint green streaks on her chest.

"Edward," she whispers breathlessly. I pull my face away from her chest to look into her big, brown eyes.

I kiss her again, then grasp the sides of her waist and lift her up to sit on the island. When I set her down, my arm bumps the flour sack, knocking it over; it spills all over the goddamned counter, sending up a cloud of white dust as I wedge myself between her legs.

"You're making a fucking mess," she teases, her eyes shining as she sweeps her thumb across my chin to gather the frosting still left there. She wipes if off on my t-shirt, then grabs my shoulders, pulling me closer.

"I don't fucking care," I reply, smiling back at her.

Pressing my lips to hers again, I raise my hands to cup her breasts and squeeze gently, then capture her nipples between my thumbs and index fingers, pulling slightly as she moans into my mouth. Gasping for air a minute later, she twists her mouth away, allowing me to kiss down her neck to her shoulder.

Skimming my hands down her ribcage, I grab the bottom of her tank top and lift it up, quickly taking it off and dropping it behind her. I slide my arms around her back as I lean down again to cover her breast with my mouth, swirling my tongue around her nipple while she buries her hands in my hair, holding me to her chest. When she tries to scoot forward, moving her hips closer to mine, I slide one hand from her back to her stomach, and then down, reaching between her legs and stroking her over the fabric of her pants.

"Oh, God," she moans, pressing herself against my hand. I pull my mouth away from her chest to look at her… watch her. Her eyes are half-closed, her lips open; I feel one of her hands drop to my shoulder and grip my t-shirt tightly. Keeping my eyes on her, I lean down to kiss her when she tugs my shirt.

I move my hand up to untie the drawstring of her pants and then slip my hand inside her pants and underwear. I skim across her clit, then push a finger inside her.

"Baby, you're so wet," I say, sliding my mouth across her jaw to her ear when she wrenches her mouth away to take a deep breath.

I add a second finger, feeling how fucking tight she is around my fingers. She whimpers quietly as I pump my fingers a little bit faster.

"Edward… closer… closer," she says, clutching the material of my shirt in her hands.

"Are you close, baby?" I whisper, tracing the shell of her ear with my tongue.

"No…you, closer," she replies breathily.

"I'm right here, ballerina," I say, tracing my tongue down her neck.

"Oh… God…Edward," she gasps as I move my fingers faster. "Please… no, stop… I want… you… closer."

Something about the desperation in her voice makes me lift my head, still my fingers. Looking into her eyes, I swallow as she nods at me.

"Fuck, Bella. Don't do this to me," I groan, finally understanding what she means by wanting _me_ closer.

"You said I had to be sure during the day… it's the middle of the afternoon. And I'm sure," she says, pressing her lips to mine. As we kiss, she shifts her hips, rubbing herself against the hand I still have between her legs.

Shit. She feels so good on my fingers as I slowly pump them into her again that I know I'm not gonna last two minutes when she's on my dick. Jesus. I don't know what to do – I'm hesitant to let her decide in the heat of the moment, but if she's ready… fuck, am I ever willing.

Breaking our kiss, I bend forward and rest my forehead on her shoulder, watching the movement of my hand under the material of her pants.

"Edward," she sighs, pulling my face back up, and using her tongue and lips to clean up the rest of the frosting from my cheek.

"I want you," I finally croak, pulling my hand away from her and out of her pants. Wrapping both arms around her waist, I pick her up, holding her tightly against my chest, and then shifting one arm beneath her ass to support her as I walk out of the kitchen.

"You have me," she whispers, placing her lips against my ear as she hooks her legs around my waist.

In the bedroom, I lay her down carefully on my smooth sheets, grateful that we didn't make the bed this morning. I take off my frosting-coated t-shirt and then my jeans and boxers, noting that Bella is watching me. When I reach for the waistband of her pants, she lifts her hips and allows me to pull them off. While I'm still deciding if I should take her underwear off, too, she pushes them down her thighs. I slide them the rest of the way down her legs and drop them to the floor with the rest of our clothes.

Looking down at her, I put one knee on the bed and climb up, settling between her legs. She raises her head slightly and pulls out the band holding her ponytail, throwing it to the side as her hair tumbles down to the pillow. Smiling, she crooks her arm around my neck, putting her lips on mine and taking me with her as she lies back. I follow her down, kissing her unhurriedly, stroking my tongue against hers slowly. Propping myself on one elbow, I glide my hand down the length of her arm before lifting it to her chest. I circle my fingers around her nipple until she moans into my mouth, then cup her breast with my hand, using my index finger to rub across her nipple over and over.

When she writhes underneath me, I let go of her breast, gliding the backs of my fingers across her stomach and down between her legs. I slip two fingers and then three inside her, making sure she's ready. Pulling my mouth away from hers, I reach for the nightstand and open the drawer to get a condom. I sit back on my knees to roll it on, then lie back down on top of her.

Holding myself above her, outside of her, I look into her eyes again. "Ballerina?" I ask nervously. I think she's sure… I feel like we're ready… but I know it will change things between us.

"I'm not thinking about anyone else, Edward. Are you?" she asks, her eyes clear and bright, her gaze steady.

I smile at her. "No… just you," I reply, pausing to swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. "Just us."

"Us," she echoes quietly, smiling. She raises one hand to my face, grazing my cheek with the back of her hand, then moving it up to grip my hair again.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly push inside, trying to let her body adjust to mine even though she feels so good that I'm fucking overwhelmed with the urge to go hard and fast at her. Groaning, I feel my abs contract as her eyes slide closed, her hips lift to take me all the way in. Holding myself up with one arm, I wrap the other around her shoulders and lean down to kiss her gently.

"Bella," I mumble against her lips. She flutters her heavy-lidded eyes open to look up at me, her eyes soft and warm. Oh, fuck. As soon as I look into her eyes, my fucking chest tightens up and I have to fight the desire to profess all kinds of shit I'm not ready to say. I pull back and push in again with a quiet grunt. Jesus, she feels incredible.

"You're beautiful," I say, my voice cracking with emotion.

"No… you're the beautiful one," she murmurs, sliding her eyes closed again and pushing her hips against me. I thrust a little more forcefully into her as I lean down to press my lips to hers again.

A minute later, I readjust my arms so I can slide one hand in between us, moving to circle her clit. She gasps and bucks against me. I kiss across her cheek to her ear, breathing raggedly. "You're perfect," I whisper.

"Ah, Edward… Edward," she cries loudly as I feel her convulse around me. I hold still for a moment, letting her clutch my shoulders tightly as she arches up against me.

When her body relaxes, I rise up to look at her and she opens her eyes to look dazedly at me. I smile, moving my hand from in between us and reaching for hers. I intertwine our fingers and slide our hands up above her head.

"Put your legs around me, ballerina," I say as I press into her again.

As her legs wrap around me, I pull almost all the way out, then sink back into her as she tilts her hips and uses her legs to draw me closer. For a split second, I remember looking at her legs the night we met, imagining this exact scene, her fucking gorgeous legs holding us together…imagining feeling this way with her, but never imagining I would feel this way _about_ her.

Burying my face in her neck, I know I can't wait anymore and begin thrusting steadily into her, increasing my pace when I feel the orgasm coming and finally grunting out her name as I come inside her.

Neither of us moves much as we catch our breath; Bella slides her fingers gently through the hair at the back of my neck while I stroke my thumb lightly along hers. Finally, afraid I'm too heavy, I lift up on my elbows to look at her. Her eyes are closed, but she's smiling, so I kiss her, sliding my tongue against hers lazily, pulling my mouth back from hers often to nip at her jaw. Eventually, I have to get up, even though I'd like nothing better than to leave my dick right where it is until it's ready for round two – because there's definitely going to be a round two. But I need to get rid of the condom first.

"I'll be right back, baby," I murmur against her lips, climbing off of her. With one hand, I pull the sheet and comforter up around her so she won't get cold.

"Edward, what's that smell? Oh, my God! The cookies!" she exclaims, tossing the covers aside and dashing toward the kitchen – deliciously naked. Chuckling, I walk into the bathroom to toss the condom and am washing my hands when I hear her.

"Ow! Fuck!" Her shout is accompanied by a loud crash.

I turn and race for the kitchen. "Bella! Are you okay?" I yell.

"Yeah," she answers disgustedly. "Burned my arm… burned the cookies… ruined your cookie sheet." I get to the kitchen and see her leaning over the sink, holding her forearm under the running water.

"The only one of those things I care about is your arm," I say, walking up behind her and peering over her shoulder at the red mark on the inside of her right forearm. "Stay here. I'll get something to put on it." I press a kiss against the back of her shoulder and walk back to the bathroom to get the burn ointment.

Before I leave the bedroom, I put boxers on and get my Radiohead t-shirt for her in case she's getting cold. When I get back in the kitchen, I turn the water off and gently dry her forearm, being careful not to touch the burn. I help her put the shirt on and then apply the medicine to her skin, cringing and whispering an apology when she winces and inhales sharply.

"We'll put some gauze on it tonight, but it's best to let some air get to it for now," I say, kissing the side of her head. "You want to go sit down while I clean this up?"

She turns and looks around the wrecked kitchen, probably taking it in for the first time… the counters are sticky, the island is covered in flour except for the spot where Bella's perfect ass sat, her tank top is hanging half-in, half-out of the mixing bowl and the floor is dotted with globs of green frosting accompanied by white flour footprints. When she dropped the baking sheet on the tile floor, some of the Christmas tree-shaped – and burned beyond edibility – cookies must have gone flying; they're scattered among the green and white.

"Oh, my God," she muses, raising a hand to cover her mouth. "We destroyed your kitchen."

"We did," I confirm, smirking, shifting to stand behind her. I slide my hands around her waist and rest my chin lightly on her shoulder.

She moves her hand to cup the side of my face and leans her head against mine. "Totally fucking worth it," she says.

Laughing, I turn my head to kiss her cheek, then hug her when she turns around in my arms. "I agree, baby. Totally fucking worth it."

* * *

Once we've cleaned up the kitchen, I order Chinese food while Bella takes a shower. She comes back out just after it's delivered, wearing jeans and one of my Full Moon t-shirts.

"Why are you dressed?" I ask, disappointed.

"Why are _you_ dressed?" she retorts, grinning at me.

"I had to answer the door," I explain seriously as we sit down. "You have no excuse."

Shaking her head, she laughs at me and tells me I'm overreacting. I probably am, but I continue grumbling about it while we eat – mostly to amuse her. It gets dark so goddamned early now that it feels like midnight, but I think it's only about six when we finish.

"Jeez, Edward. Why did you order so much food?" she asks, looking at all the leftovers on the table in front of us.

"For later. I figure we'll be hungry again… later," I say suggestively, quirking an eyebrow at her and nudging her foot with mine under the table.

She blushes slightly, but laughs. "You going for a run or something?" she teases. "Think you're going to work up an appetite?"

Sliding my chair back from the table, I crook my finger and wait for her to walk over to me. "I already have an appetite," I say, pulling her down onto my lap and kissing her.

She kisses back, digging her hands into my hair. "You also have sticky hair," she mumbles against my lips, then giggles and lets go of my hair to wipe her hands on my t-shirt.

She offers to put away the leftovers while I shower, so I go back to my room. When I see our clothes still lying on the floor beside the bed, I walk over to pick them up and also notice that the sheets have some flour spots and green frosting on them. Chuckling, I strip them off and carry all the dirty stuff into the closet, dumping everything into the hamper.

When I turn around, something on the floor catches my eye… the bag of candles. Shit. Everything happened so fast earlier that being romantic didn't even occur to me. After making the bed with clean sheets and putting a trash can beside the bed, I set all the candles out… some on each nightstand and some on the dresser. Then I finally go into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

During dinner, I noticed a little whisker burn on Bella's neck, so I shave carefully before I get in the shower. I have to shampoo twice to get all the shit out of my hair, which makes me smile… and gives me a semi as I remember every detail of this afternoon. As I get out and half-ass dry off, I worry that maybe she regrets it. She hasn't acted like she does, but what if she's just scared to tell me? Fuck. It'll kill me if she wants to wait a while to have sex again. I'll do it, but it'll fucking kill me. After pulling boxers on, I fuck with my hair a little, but since I didn't even towel-dry it, it won't do anything but lay limply across my forehead.

Too hell-bent on finding Bella to mess with my hair any longer, I drop my hand and open the door. I take three quick steps into the bedroom, stopping abruptly when I realize she's in here, too… lighting the candles.

"Hey," I say softly, smiling at her when she looks over at me. "I was gonna do that."

She nods. "I know."

She turns her head to finish lighting the candles. She's still wearing my t-shirt, but her legs are bare now. Glancing over at the big chair in the corner, I see her jeans laying neatly across the ottoman… with a pair of white, lacy underwear folded on top of them. Christ. I guess she's all right with having sex again.

I turn back to her just in time to see her light the last candle and blow out the match, then she walks toward me. Staggered by the force of the feeling in my chest as I watch her approach, I swallow uncomfortably. Frozen in place, I can't speak… I can only think that I am the luckiest asshole alive to be locked away in this room with her. And it's her – not me, not the motherfucking candles, not even the sex. It's the way I feel about her.

"I should have done this earlier," I say apologetically, finally finding my voice. "For our first time."

"Huh," she replies, stopping in front of me. She rests her palms on my bare chest and leans forward to lick away a few drops of water that dripped down from my hair. "I thought our first time was pretty good the way it was."

"Uh, it was really good," I say, putting one arm around her waist and digging the other hand into her hair, already distracted by the way she's dragging her tongue across my chest. "But the… candles –."

She tilts her head back to look at me, sliding her hands up to wrap around my neck. "The candles will provide excellent mood lighting for our second time," she murmurs with a chuckle. Her warm breath mixes with mine as she tugs me down and kisses me, opening her lips and sliding her tongue against mine. The kiss quickly heats up, and I slide one hand from her waist to her ass, then reach under her shirt, groaning when I touch her smooth skin.

Breaking our kiss, she steps out of my arms… slowly backing toward the bed. Crossing her arms at her waist, she grasps the t-shirt and lifts it gradually, revealing her bare body underneath a little at a time.

"Jesus, ballerina. Are you trying to kill me?" I groan.

"No, definitely not," she replies, smiling softly at me. "But I _am_ trying to get you in bed again."

"Baby, that's not really gonna be a challenge for you," I respond.

When she starts to pull the shirt over her head, she grimaces, inhaling sharply through her gritted teeth and jerking her right arm away. Quickly stepping forward until I'm right in front of her, I help her get the shirt off, carefully avoiding her burn as I pull it down her arm.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yeah," she answers, rolling her eyes as she drops the shirt to the floor. "So much for the big seduction scene."

"Christ, Bella. You don't have to fucking seduce me. I want you all the time," I say honestly, raising my hands to cup the sides of her jaw. I bend down to kiss her, pulling gently at her lips, attempting to be romantic for at least a minute before I grope her the way I want.

She kisses back, and – again – she's the one who intensifies the kiss immediately, who presses her body against mine a moment later. I can't really be expected to resist that, can I? I try to take it slowly… but she wraps her left arm around my waist and tugs me with her as she backs up to the edge of the bed. I have both hands buried in her hair now as I try to figure out how to get on the bed without having to stop kissing her.

Then I stop kissing her… pulling my mouth away to gasp when she slides her left hand inside the back waistband of my boxers, scraping her fingernails slowly across my skin.

"Fuck," I moan as she kisses across my upper chest. I can feel her smiling against my skin, so I press her back gently until she looks up at me. "You _are _trying to kill me… and you think it's funny."

Her quiet laugh seems to vibrate through my whole body… her eyes… her skin… everything about her pulls me further under her spell. She shakes her head slightly. "No, baby. But you have these cute, little indentations… right here," she says, circling her fingers on the skin right above my ass. "I noticed them when you walked out of the kitchen after I burned myself."

"You have them, too," I say, smiling.

"And then there's _this_," she continues, ignoring my remark. Keeping her hand inside my waistband, she slides it around to the side of my waist, and then traces her fingers down and in across my lower abs… toward my dick. Inhaling, I try to stand still… it fucking tickles though. "The spot where your abs and hip flexors meet. Very sexy."

"Jesus," I exhale in a gust, squirming out of her grasp.

"Another ticklish spot?" she asks, grinning at me. I nod dumbly. She turns and climbs onto the bed, scooting to the middle. "Are you coming?"

Jesus fucking Christ… almost.

Crawling onto the bed, I straddle one of her legs, lowering my upper body to press gently against hers as I kiss her lips, her neck, her upper chest. Determined to make this last, I shift to lie down on her left side. We both roll to face each other and I carefully lift her right hand to my shoulder to keep her burn from being bumped again. For several minutes, I kiss her, unhurriedly skimming my fingers down her neck, down her chest between her breasts, down her stomach – pausing to trace around her navel. She shifts her right arm into my hair and throws her top leg over mine as she shivers.

"Cold, baby?" I whisper against her lips.

"No," she pants, pressing her heel against the back of my knee, forcing my leg in between hers.

I glide my hand around to her back, letting my fingers roam up her spine, across her shoulders, down her side. I continue kissing her as I learn her body, memorize her curves. When I finally cup her bare ass with my hand and pull her hips more tightly against mine, we're panting into each other's mouths. She tilts her head back and pulls my face to her neck, so I suck lightly as we move our hips against each other.

"I want you," she whispers.

"Bella, look at me," I answer, my voice low and raspy, as I lift my head. I don't speak again until her big, brown eyes are staring into mine. "You fucking have me."

She inhales shakily, moving her hand from my hair to my face. Still looking at me, she presses her lips gently to mine, nibbling and licking across my lower lip until I can't fucking take it anymore. Raising my hand to her neck, I hold her in place as I kiss her forcefully, sweeping my tongue into her mouth. Sighing, she starts to roll to her back, trying to pull me with her. But I let her go and turn the other way to reach for a condom.

"I've got one," she says as I hear the package rip open.

Rolling back toward her, I lie between her legs and push my boxers off. After putting the condom on, I slide two fingers into her as she wraps her left arm around my back and straightens her right arm out to her side. When she whimpers and raises her hips, I move my hand away and slowly push inside her. Once I'm all the way in, I hold still and look at her, balancing on my elbows and sliding my hands underneath her shoulders.

Kissing her, I begin to move slowly, but I can't hold back for long. I speed up, keeping my thrusts shallow, angling my hips down slightly to put pressure on her clit with every stroke. It works – she bucks her hips underneath me within a couple of minutes.

"Oh… God… Edward," she pants, moving her right hand to push at the pillow under her head. I pull it away gently, laying her flat and kissing her cheek before raising back up to watch her. "Oh… God… God."

She bites her lip, so I know she's close. I keep my pace steady, but push a little more forcefully into her, grunting quietly. When she comes, she lets go of her bottom lip, letting her mouth drop open… her eyes close. She digs her fingernails into the middle of my back as I lean down to skim my lips along her jawline. When her fingers relax, I prop myself up on my arms to look down at her, alarmed when I see a tear leak from the outside corner of her left eye.

"Ballerina?" I ask, stilling immediately. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't know it was going to feel like this," she whispers, wiping the wetness away with her left hand and opening her eyes.

"Am I hurting you?" Jesus, I didn't even think about the fact that she could be getting sore, but she shakes her head and smiles slightly at me.

"I didn't know it was going to feel like this… _here_," she says, pulling her hand away from her eye and laying it over her heart.

I smile back at her as I gently lower myself to my left elbow, placing my right hand over her left. Leaning down, I kiss her, plucking at her lips softly, wanting her to know that I feel it, too. As I'm kissing her, I feel her fingers grip mine and her other hand push my left shoulder. When I lift up slightly, she raises her right hand to rest over my pounding heart. Taking a stuttering breath around the feeling in my chest, I move my lips more heatedly against hers until she pulls her mouth away moments later, gasping for breath.

Pushing back, I kiss down her neck, letting go of her fingers and nudging her hand out of the way with my nose. I put my mouth over her breast, sucking powerfully on her. After giving equal attention to the other side, I kiss down her ribcage and across her stomach. Scooting down farther, I put my tongue on her, circling her clit until she buries a hand in my hair and tugs. Lifting my head, I look up at her.

"You want me up there?" I ask, smiling when she nods at me. As I crawl back up her body, I place several kisses on her chest and neck before putting my lips on hers. Moaning quietly, she raises her legs, her knees gripping my sides as she puts her arms around my neck.

I slide into her again, slowly, but when her hips jerk under mine, I know I won't be able to stop.

"Bella… Bella," I groan, kissing her once more before I push up on my arms. "You're so fucking beautiful," I say hoarsely, thrusting into her. "You feel so fucking good."

I tried to be gentle earlier, but I'm not gentle now. She moves with me, speeds up with me… Jesus Christ, she's fucking perfect. Finally letting my eyes slide shut, I pump faster until I come, panting and whispering her name.

When I open my eyes and look down at her, she's staring back. I lower myself to kiss her, letting some of my weight rest on her, smiling when our damp skin meets and sticks together.

"You're sweaty," I murmur.

"So are you," she replies, then sighs when I lower my forehead to the bed and kiss her shoulder. "Is it going to be like this every time? I mean, this good every time?"

"I'll do my best, ballerina," I say, amused as I rise up to look at her. "I can't make any promises though. Everybody has an off day once in a while."

"I'll try to help," she replies, her eyes shining with laughter even though she's trying to keep a straight face. "You don't have to do all the work."

I laugh, then kiss her again… slowly, sweetly as we both catch our breath. After a minute, I move off of her, drop the condom in the trash beside the bed and lie on my side facing her. She sighs and sits up to grab the sheet, draping it over us as I fix the pillows. She lies down facing me, smiling as I sink my fingers into her hair and lean forward to kiss her. We talk quietly about anything… nothing… and I realize that I haven't done this for years – laid in bed after sex and talked. I was always out of there once I got what I wanted. But I can't imagine doing that with Bella.

When she says she's hungry again, I go to heat up the leftovers, warning her not to get dressed while I'm out of the room. I return with a bowl of shrimp fried rice for me and one of Kung Pao for her. When I sit down and lean back against the headboard, she scoots over next to me and drapes one of her legs across mine.

"You know, we got gypped," she announces several minutes later.

"How, baby?" I ask as I dig around in the fried rice for the shrimp I know she likes.

"They didn't give us fortune cookies," she complains, then brightens when I hold my chopsticks in front of her. She leans forward and bites the shrimp off the end.

Laughing, I kiss the top of her head when she leans against my shoulder. "You want me to give you a fortune, ballerina?"

"Mmhmm."

"Confucius say, 'Eat Chinese food in bed, get sticky rice stuck… places," I say, pulling the sheet away from her chest.

Giggling, she pulls the sheet back to her body. "What are you doing?"

"Just checking, baby. As your boyfriend, it's my job to make sure your places are rice-free. Confucius say that, too," I explain. "And Confucius say your places look fucking great naked."

"That one sounds more like Edward than Confucius," she remarks, turning her head to kiss my shoulder.

"Really?" I ask skeptically. "Huh. I could have sworn it was Confucius."

"Confucius say, 'Edward trying to get lucky third time'," she laughs.

I laugh with her, then turn to set the bowl and chopsticks down on the nightstand so I can put my arms around her.

"Nope. Ballerina has worn Edward out," I say. "Edward will have to sleep first."

"Okay," she says, reaching up to kiss me and then scooting out of the bed. "You want to watch a movie or something? It's only nine." She stands up beside the bed – still naked – and I feel my dick start to react. I was lying – I could go again right now, but I think she'll be sore. Setting down her bowl, she picks up the t-shirt she was wearing earlier and puts it on, arching her back a little as she pulls her hair out from under the collar. Jesus. I don't even think she's doing this shit on purpose right now.

"Uh, sure," I answer, watching her walk around the bed to my side. She leans down to kiss me again, then stacks my bowl on top of hers and turns to leave, telling me to pick something to watch while she's in the kitchen. I'm not sure how I thought Bella would act after we had sex… I guess I thought maybe she'd be shy or embarrassed, but other than blushing a couple of times, she hasn't been. She always fucking surprises me.

When she comes back into the room, she walks around, blowing out all the candles. Unexpectedly, it makes me a little sad. I guess I must look it, too, because she laughs at me.

"Edward, we can light them again sometime," she soothes, putting her hand in my hair after she blows out the one on my nightstand.

"I know. But I liked them," I say, surprising myself with my honesty. I look up at her, hoping she doesn't think I'm a sap… or a pussy.

She sits down, facing me. "I liked them, too," she says, leaning in to put her hands on either side of my face. "I liked everything today." Reaching up to grasp her forearms, I sit forward to kiss her, but before our lips touch, she pulls her right arm away.

"Fuck. Your burn," I say. "Did I hurt you?" She shakes her head and I tell her to sit still while I get the medicine and some gauze for it. "And, ballerina, don't even think about getting in bed with that fucking t-shirt on." I hear her laughter behind me as I walk into the bathroom. I don't think I'll ever get tired of that sound.

After I doctor her arm and get the t-shirt off of her, we spend the next couple of hours lying in bed and watching a movie. Jesus, it's fucking distracting to have all that naked skin pressed up against me… her smooth legs sliding along mine, her arm draped across my stomach. And she constantly moves her head around to look at me, brushing her silky hair against my shoulder and chest. I have no fucking idea what the movie is about… and I hope she doesn't realize what I'm hiding when I bend my knee and slide my foot in, pulling the covers away from my hard dick.

By the time the movie is over, I've calmed down. After I turn off the television, I roll toward her as she curls up against me and sighs. Smiling to myself in the dark, I think that a year ago – fuck, six months ago – this would have been my nightmare: Tying myself to one woman, baking all day, eating take-out and watching a movie in bed. Now, I can't think of a better way to spend a Saturday night.

"You're smiling," she says sleepily, tracing her fingers across my lips.

"Yep," I answer, stroking my fingers lightly up and down her smooth back.

"I'm smiling, too," she yawns.

"No, you're yawning. And pretty soon you'll be burrowing," I tease. "Sleeping with you at night is like trying to chase a goddamned rabbit down the hole."

She reaches up to find my lips in the dark. "I know. But now I have you to burrow with me." Moving my hand to the back of her head, I hold it against mine as I kiss her again.

"Well, what the fuck are you waiting for, baby?" I ask, chuckling as I let her go. I hear her quiet laughter as she scoots down in the bed… and then I grab my pillow and follow.

* * *

In the morning, we screw around a little in bed, but when I push a finger into her, she winces.

"I'm sorry, baby," I whisper. "I was too rough."

"It's okay," she answers. "Don't stop."

I pull my hand away from her and put my arms around her. "Ballerina, there's gonna be a lot of sex. It doesn't all have to be this weekend," I say. "We could shower together instead."

She likes that idea. So we get clean, then dirty, then clean again together.

Afterward, I take her out for a late breakfast. While we're eating, we decide to go get a Christmas tree. Well, she decides to go get a Christmas tree and I talk her into letting me go with her… and into putting the tree up at my condo. I'm pretty sure I can get her to stay with me almost every night with that kind of lure. I don't mind staying at her place, but it's supposed to rain all week… and I have a black car… and a garage.

We get her truck and then drop my car off back at the condo. Reluctantly, she lets me drive her truck to the Christmas tree farm since I know where it is. Before we're out of town, my phone rings. Fucking Rosalie. Talking fast, she tells me that Paul, the contractor, came by the bar and left samples that I need to look at… today. Irritated, I mostly grunt or groan in reply, but when I hang up, Bella says she doesn't mind stopping.

"This shouldn't take long, baby," I say, taking her hand as we walk into the bar. It's pretty crowded for the game, but we don't get a lot of attention except from a couple of regulars who call out to me and wave. I wave back, but don't stop to talk to anyone, intent on finding Rosalie, picking shit out, and then getting out of here.

There's one empty seat at the end of the bar, so I steer Bella that way. "You want to sit down?" I ask, leaning down to speak quietly in her ear. Emmett waves to us from behind the bar and then walks down to stand in front of us.

"Okay," she answers, squeezing my hand and then letting go as she boosts herself onto the stool. "Hi, Emmett."

"Hello, Tiny Dancer," he grins, winking at her before looking at me. "E, sorry to call you in, but Paul wants an answer on the bar finish. He left the samples upstairs."

"No big deal," I shrug as I start to walk around the end of the bar.

"Where do you think you're going?" Emmett asks, blocking my way.

"Behind the bar to fix Bella a drink."

"You're not working today. I'll make it," he says, taking a glass down from the shelf behind him.

"She likes it with lem–," I say.

"I know, I know. _Christ_," he mutters, "what a control freak."

As I move to stand behind Bella, she smiles up at me, clearly amused by Emmett's mumbling. I'm not that amused, but I can't help smiling back at her as I wrap my arms around her and press my chest against her back.

"Tiny, have I ever told you about the night I met Edward?" Emmett asks when he sets her drink on the bar in front of her, looking pointedly in my eyes as he squeezes the lemon over the top of the glass and then drops it in.

"No," she laughs, leaning forward to take a drink from the straw.

"I've told her," I insist, not wanting Bella to hear Emmett's version of the story… I sound like an asshole the way he tells it.

"Well, then she deserves to hear the whole truth," Emmett asserts.

"Emmett, we were drunk before we even met that night," I grouse. "And _then_ we drank an entire bottle of Wild Turkey after you beat the shit out of me. Neither of us remembers the whole truth."

Laughing again, Bella glances at me over her shoulder. The look in her eyes just about stops my fucking heart and I bend down to kiss her – three times – before I even think about the fact that we have an audience. I used to make fun of Emmett for acting like this with my sister… but now I get it.

When I straighten back up, Rose is standing beside Emmett. She's studying my face, her head tilted to the side slightly, her eyes narrowed. Bella leans back against my chest as Emmett launches into his account of our first meeting: the introduction, the fistfight, the liquor-fueled laughter that forged our friendship… I've heard it all before. I listen for a couple of minutes, interrupting occasionally to correct him, but Rose's continued scrutiny is making me really uncomfortable.

"I've heard enough. I'm going upstairs," I interject, when Emmett pauses for dramatic effect. Leaning down, I whisper in Bella's ear. "Come up when Emmett's done ruining my reputation?"

"Sure," she answers, turning to look at me. She puts two fingers under my chin and pulls me in to kiss her again. When I straighten up, I see that Rose's eyebrows are lifted, her lips pursed together tightly and pulled to one side. She learned this look from Mom, too. It's the "You are in so much fucking trouble" glare. I knew it pretty well when I was seventeen.

Ignoring her, I go up the stairs, but before I reach the top, I hear slow, methodical footsteps following on the treads behind me. Fuck. I keep going, rounding the railing when I get to the top and spotting the sample boards I'm supposed to choose from propped against the far wall. I walk toward them, standing a few feet back to get a first impression. Rose stops right behind me.

"How has your weekend been, Edward?" she asks sweetly.

"Fine," I answer curtly.

"You should take the weekend off more often," she remarks thoughtfully. "You look very…. relaxed. You don't look tense at all… for the first time in _months_."

Surprised that she doesn't sound as mad as she looked downstairs, I turn around to face her.

"It's… about… fucking… time," she says, drawing her words out exaggeratedly and widening her eyes. "I was beginning to think you two would never grow the balls to get down to it."

"What are you talking about?" I frown, puzzled by what she said. "You're the one who put the goddamned ban on us."

"And you're welcome," she replies haughtily. Then she laughs… she motherfucking laughs like some maniacal villain. My anger spikes quickly as I try to figure out what the hell she thinks I should be thankful for… and why she seems happy that I ignored her stupid, goddamned rule.

"What the fuck, Rosalie? You weren't expecting me to abide by it?"

She shrugs. "I figured you would for a while. I meant it at first… you know. You needed to slow down. She would have slept with you too fast because she would have been afraid you wouldn't like her if she didn't. And you would have slept with her _immediately_ because you've used sex that way for several years."

"Used sex what way?"

"As a substitute for emotion," she pronounces.

"Fucking know-it-all," I mutter, glaring at her… even though she's got a point.

"You don't have to agree," she says nonchalantly. "I know I'm right." As usual, she's not intimidated by me. "Anyway, I put the ban in place because I figured if you both could blame me, you wouldn't feel so pressured. And then sooner or later, you would get to the point where you wouldn't give a fuck what I said."

Openmouthed, unable to speak, I just stare at her, shaking my head minutely.

"So, I took one for the team – had two of my favorite people in the world pissed at me for months," she admits proudly.

Still speechless, I close my eyes, trying to tame my temper; I can't yell at her right now without everyone downstairs hearing me. When I open them again, she's smiling distractedly, her eyes downcast.

"I'm kind of like… a love whisperer," she pronounces self-righteously, looking back up at me.

"You're nothing like that," I retort sharply, finally finding my voice. "You _are_ even more of a manipulative bitch than I thought though."

"Well, that's something," she says happily, still not bothered at all.

"That wasn't a compliment, Rose," I seethe. "Does this amuse you… trying to run my fucking life?"

"Nope, not at all," she states, her face suddenly serious. "And now that my duty is done, I won't interfere anymore. You two are on your own."

"Riiiight," I say, dragging the word out to show my doubt.

"I'm not kidding, Edward. The only thing I'm interested in now is repairing my relationship with Bella," she says, looking intently at me. Her eyes are clear and honest. "I love her, too."

And there goes my ability to speak… again.

"You do love her… right?" she asks quietly.

Luckily, I hear more footsteps on the stairs, so I turn back around without answering. I'm facing the samples, but I'm not really looking at them. My chest is tight and my fucking heart is pounding. When I take a deep breath, it's uneven and stuttering. Even my hands feel shaky as I stuff them in my front pockets. Christ. Leave it to Rose to hit on the subject I'm finally able to think about, but nowhere near ready to discuss… with _anyone_.

"You two are quiet," Bella remarks as she approaches.

"We're just looking at the samples for the bar up here," I say, turning to look at her. She smiles at me, making my breath hitch again – for a different reason. Or, fuck, maybe it's the same reason. I don't fucking know. But I know I want my hands on her, so as soon as she's close enough, I put my arm around her and pull her to stand in front of me. "Which one do you like, baby?"

She reaches for my hand, intertwining our fingers at her waist and leaning back against me. I ignore the gagging noise my sister makes, but Bella laughs, turning her head to look at Rosalie.

"What?" Bella asks.

"You two are sickening. Get a room or something," Rose deadpans, but she's smiling back at Bella.

Bella laughs again and smiles up at me before pulling away to move closer to the samples with Rose. For the next ten minutes, they look at every fucking sample in every different part of the goddamned room, hauling them over to the natural light and even into the roughed-in bathroom so they can see how it will look in the dark. Finally, they agree on one – and it's the same one that I like best.

"This is the one, Edward. It's dark and distressed, so it looks kind of worn… antique… like it's always been here," Rose says.

"What do you think?" Bella asks, looking over at me and smiling.

"I think I don't fucking care as long as we can be done," I say, trying to sound irritated, but I can't help smiling at Bella.

"All right. You're finished," Rose says exasperatedly. "Get out of here. I'll tell Paul when he comes in."

"Thanks, Sis," I say. "See you tomorrow."

Grabbing Bella's hand, I pull her away as she calls goodbye to Rose. Downstairs, I resist when she tries to veer toward where Emmett is standing at the bar.

"Can I say goodbye?" she asks, sounding annoyed. I huff, but let her lead me over to the stool where she was sitting earlier. "Thanks for the drink, Emmett. See you later."

"You're welcome, Tiny," he answers. I see my sister approaching and tug on Bella's hand again, trying to get her moving. "Jesus, Edward. Where's the fire?" Emmett asks as we walk away.

"In his pants," Rose laughs as she sidles up next to Emmett, reaching her arm around his waist, leaning comfortably against him.

Hesitantly, I turn to look at Bella, afraid she'll be embarrassed by Rose's remark. She's looking back at me, her lips rolled together as she tries not to laugh. I push the side door of the bar open, letting her step outside before me. She giggles as we walk to the passenger side of the truck, and then leans back against the door to look up at me.

"How did she know?" she asks incredulously.

"No fucking clue," I hedge… even though I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the way I couldn't stop touching her… and kissing her… and looking at her. I tell her about the conversation Rose and I had upstairs, relating Rose's ridiculous reasoning for the ban and her promise to butt the fuck out from now on.

"That's fucked up," Bella says when I'm finished.

"That's my sister," I say drolly, then change the subject, needling her a little. "You know, you're starting to sound like me with all the cussing you've been doing the last couple of days."

"I know," she laughs, winding her arms around my neck. "But now I can't seem to fucking stop."

"Language, Bella," I tease, bending down to kiss her. Gently, I touch my lips to hers twice, then she pulls away, dropping her arms to circle my waist. She leans her forehead against my chest as I wrap my arms around her back.

"Edward, I don't like what Rose did… and you'd better not be making any other promises to _her_ that concern _our_ relationship," she says, tilting her head back to look up at me with one raised eyebrow. After I nod, her face relaxes and she takes a deep breath. "But… I'm really glad we waited. I think everything about this weekend was perfect."

"Ballerina," I breathe, lifting one hand to cup the side of her neck and lowering my forehead to rest against hers. Shutting my eyes, I inhale deeply, feeling both the hot rush of desire and the warm, slow swell of something else flow through my body.

She shifts her forehead away and presses her soft lips against mine. Groaning quietly, I move my lips eagerly with hers, digging my hand into her hair. Under my leather jacket, I feel her hands gripping my shirt at the small of my back as we both open our lips and I sweep my tongue into her mouth. Jesus… I thought that _sex_ with Bella would diminish the potency of _making out_ with Bella, but I was fucking wrong.

I still have one hand resting on her back and I slide it slowly down to her waist, itching to get my hands on her skin, but knowing I can't do that in the middle of the fucking parking lot. I let my hand drop farther – to the top of her ass – before shifting it to rest against her hip.

Our lips and tongues meet, pull apart, then meet again. We're both breathing heavily after a minute, and I know we're going to get carried away if we don't stop… but I don't want to stop. I push my hips against hers, pressing her up against the side of her truck and then finally wrench my mouth away from hers.

"We have to–," I pant, leaning my forehead against the truck window behind her.

"I know," she murmurs, her chest rising and falling rapidly against mine.

I slide my hand from her hair to her neck, pressing my first two fingers against the spot where I feel her pulse racing. Smiling, I lower my head to rest on her shoulder as she shifts her arms to wrap around my neck, hugging me. We stand still and intertwined for a minute, cooling off, and then I step back.

Reaching around her, I open the passenger door of the truck. "Let's go get a tree," I say as she climbs in.

"Okay. Then we're making cookies," she says as she fastens her seatbelt. What the fuck? Again? My whole goddamned kitchen counter is stacked with plastic containers full of cookies.

"Bella… are you sure you need to make more cookies?" I frown, standing just outside the door.

"Uh…no," she smiles. "The cookies are symbolic… you know, like fun-size candy."

Suddenly catching on, I step inside the open door and lean down so that our faces are only an inch apart. "You mean you want to make _burnt _cookies, baby?" I ask.

"Yeah… several batches," she whispers, lifting her hands to frame my face and pulling me in to kiss her. Groaning, I let her lead, let her deepen the kiss for a minute before I back off to look at her again.

"Ballerina, are you sure we need a fucking tree?"

After she laughingly assures me that we do, I shut her door and walk around the back of the truck. As I pull my hand through the top of my hair, I exhale in a gust.

"Fuck. She's _still_ trying to kill me," I mutter. When I glance through the back window of the truck, Bella's turned around, looking at me… smiling at me. In that instant, I remember what Emmett said to me a few days ago… and, with a quiet chuckle, I grudgingly admit to myself that he's right.

I'm a goner.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review! :)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Happy New Year! **

**Hope your holidays were happy! They're always stressful and busy around here, but this was, in some ways, the best Christmas we've had for a few years. And New Year's was an absolute blast - at a family wedding and reception where I discovered that my family is actually pretty fun... especially when we've all had a lot to drink. :)**

**Big thanks to my beta, Windgirl810 for watching my character continuity, fixing punctuation and typos, and for being such a valuable sounding board. Even better than that, she's become a trusted friend and I look forward to many more chats and chaps in 2012! **

**Also, thanks for Michelle0526 for prereading and for being such a great friend. It's been almost a year since we "met". :) **

**As always, thanks for reading - please review!**

* * *

**BPOV**

When Edward turns off the overhead lights, I gasp quietly.

"It's beautiful," I say, blinking quickly as my eyes adjust to the darkened room. I take a few steps backward to study it – the perfect, conical shape…. the colored lights… the red and green ball ornaments… the gold star on top.

"You picked a good one, baby," he says quietly, coming to stand behind me. "I like our tree."

Our tree. Not _the _tree… or _my _tree. _Our tree._

My heart beats quickly and erratically, and I smile as he comes to stand behind me. "Am I forgiven yet for not cutting it down myself?" he chuckles, wrapping his arms around me.

"Of course, Edward," I say playfully. "Alec was _so_ strong. He was perfectly capable of cutting the tree down for us."

"Yeah, you mentioned that about a hundred fucking times while he was doing it," he says, sounding amused. "You embarrassed the hell out of the poor kid."

I giggle, but I feel a little bad when I remember how red-faced the high school age boy was by the time he and Edward got the tree loaded into the back of my truck.

"I tipped him extra just because I felt guilty," Edward continues. "But you made your point. You think I'm a pussy."

"No, I don't," I laugh. "I was just teasing you." Turning my head, I look at his face in the shadowy light to make sure he's not upset. He kisses me, nibbling lightly at my lips… so I guess he's not. When we break apart, I lean my head back against his chest and sigh, smiling at the tree in the corner again.

"Does it look the way you wanted?" he asks.

Nodding, I whisper my answer. "Exactly."

"Like the trees of your childhood?"

"I've never had a real tree before," I say quietly. "My dad wasn't really into decorating for Christmas. We had a little artificial tree. But this… _this_ is what I always wanted."

His arms tighten around me and I feel his lips against the side of my head. "Ballerina," he says quietly.

"Don't," I say firmly. "Don't feel sorry for me. I had a great childhood with my dad. He did his best during the holidays, and I was happy. I just want something different this year."

"I don't feel sorry for you, ballerina. You're the toughest fucking girl I know," he says, which makes me smile even though it's probably not really true. "Let's eat. Our food's getting cold."

We leave the lights off as we sit close together on the couch and eat the pizza we ordered while we were decorating the tree. He tells me about his Aunt Maggie's family since they'll be arriving next weekend, and gives me the run-down on the upcoming Christmas with the Cullens – midnight mass; middle of the night breakfast; sleep until noon; dinner and gifts that evening.

"It sounds great, Edward. Thank you for inviting me," I say, twisting sideways on the couch and stretching up to kiss him.

"I'm glad you're coming with me," he answers as I hug him. "I'll cut the tree down next year, okay?"

"Edward, you don't have to–," I begin, pulling away slightly to look at him.

"Bella," he interrupts insistently. "I'm cutting the motherfucking tree down next year. _Okay_?"

"Okaaaaay." I widen my eyes jokingly until he smiles. When he leans down to kiss me again, I wonder if he realizes that he just implied we'll spend next Christmas together, too. My heart is racing again at the thought of being here next year – and all the months in between.

He stands up and holds a hand out to me. "Come here," he says. I look at him skeptically. "I want to show you something."

Hesitantly, I take his hand, letting him pull me up and lead me over to the tree. He drops my hand and drops to the floor, lying down on his back. Smiling up at me, he scoots his head and shoulders under the tree. The seconds tick by as I wait for him to do something… something besides look ridiculous with his chest and legs sticking out beneath the green branches.

I nudge his bare foot with mine. "What are you doing?" I ask, puzzled… wondering why he's lying under the tree like a mechanic lies under a car.

"Waiting for you to come down here, ballerina," he says again, his voice slightly muffled. "I loved doing this when I was a kid."

Curious, I lie down next to him and bend my knees to push myself under the tree, scrunching my eyes closed as the lowest bough skims my face. When I'm past it, I open my eyes and look up.

"Oh! It's so pretty!" Blindly, I reach to my right, grasping Edward's forearm as I look up at the lights from the inside of the tree.

"I thought you'd like it," he remarks lowly. When I turn my head to look at him, he's watching me, smiling slightly, crookedly. He shifts his arm, grasping my hand and curling his fingers around my palm.

"I do," I say, my voice hushed. As I wiggle closer, he lifts his arm, allowing me to slide mine under so I'm pressed against his side. I kiss his shoulder and then look back up at the lights. "You did this when you were little?"

"Yeah," he answers, twisting his hand to lace our fingers together. Stroking his thumb slowly along mine, he tells me some of his favorite Christmas memories… and asks about my holiday traditions. We stay under the tree for a while trading stories, but eventually I find myself looking more at him than the lights.

"Edward," I whisper.

"Yeah?" he answers, looking at me.

"Thank you for this weekend," I say, squeezing his hand. "I don't know how it could have been better."

"Yeah, it's been pretty fucking good, ballerina," he agrees, his bright green darkening as he studies me. "You ready to get up?"

Suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze, I dip my head, pressing my face against his upper arm. "I believe there was a discussion earlier today about cookies," I say quietly, rubbing my toes over the top of his foot.

He shifts our joined hands to his chest, and I feel the vibration of his deep, quiet chuckle under my fingers. "I remember something about that. What kind of cookies did you want again?" he prods.

Tilting my head back, I look at him again, my breath quickening when I see the affection, the desire in his eyes. "Burnt. I wanted burnt cookies."

"Sounds good, baby," he says. We peel our hands apart and scoot out from under the tree. He stands first, then offers me a hand, kissing me as soon as I'm up. "Burnt cookies sound fucking perfect to me."

* * *

"We made it!" Alice says excitedly from behind me.

"We did," I reply tiredly, locking the front door of the studio after the last of the dancers leave Thursday night.

"Bella, why aren't you happier?" she asks indignantly. "We've made it through half the year, including this crazy week when every single student was hopped up on sugar. Your little studio is doing great."

"I am happy," I respond, turning to look at her. "I'm just exhausted."

She tilts her head slightly and quirks one eyebrow at me. "And why is that?" she teases.

"Stop it, Alice," I say as my face heats with embarrassment.

"Honestly, B," she continues as she follows me into the office, "I can't believe you didn't tell me you slept with Edward. If I hadn't seen the sloppy grin on his face Monday night when he came to get you after classes, I wouldn't have known. Luckily, your boyfriend can't hide his emotions – at freaking all."

She's right. Edward's been pretty obvious this week. He's been over here a lot during the evenings, and he's left the bar the last three nights when my classes are over. I sit down at my desk and open the drawer to get the checkbook.

"I can't do much of a bonus this year, Alice," I say, ignoring her commentary on my love life. "Hopefully next year."

"You know I'd teach classes for free to help you," she says, frowning at me.

"That's not me. I like to pay my own way." I write out her paycheck and hand it to her.

"Yes, B, I know." She rolls her eyes at me. "That's why you won't quit your day job even though you work for the biggest prick on the planet. Can't you file a complaint against him or something?"

"He's very careful now," I say with a sigh, remembering the comment he made about the skirt I was wearing today. "It's never really out-and-out harassment… and it's never in writing or in front of anyone. It would be my word against his. I'm hoping to be able to quit by July, okay? I just need to build up my savings a little more."

"No, you don't," she insists. "You know your dad would want you to use the money–"

"No! I won't. And you know why."

She must understand that I'm serious because she lets it go. When I open the desk drawer to put the checkbook away, I notice that my fortune from Tao Tao – the one I got the first time Edward brought me lunch – is missing. For the last two months, it's been in the right hand corner of this drawer, and, other than me, only Alice and Rose know about it.

"Have you seen my fortune?" I ask, trying not to panic. "It's missing."

"Huh? No, I haven't," she answers. "It's in there somewhere, B. Why don't we go next door and have a drink to celebrate the studio's success? It's on me."

"No… I want to find it," I whisper as tears sting the back of my eyes. I don't know why I'm so attached to the little strip of paper… maybe because it was the first time Edward and I spent more than a couple of minutes alone… or because it was the day I knew he at least liked me enough to be friends. His fortune from that same day is still tucked into the frame around his bathroom mirror.

Rubber bands, pens, band-aids, chapstick. I rifle through the drawer again and again, but there's no strip of paper, no blue ink proclaiming "One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes" – in English on one side and Chinese on the other.

"Where did it go? I didn't move it," I lament, looking up at Alice.

"It'll turn up," she says, shifting from one foot to the other as she smiles at me. "Don't worry. Look tomorrow with a fresh set of eyes."

Still upset, I put the checkbook in the drawer and shut it slowly. She helps turn out the lights, and then we walk across the parking lot. Although I'm still worried about the missing fortune, I follow Alice inside the Full Moon, take off my coat, and sit down on a bar stool. I manage to smile back slightly when a smirking Rose appears in front of us.

"Uh uh. Nope. No way, Bella," she declares. "You're not getting him out of work tonight."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, setting my keys on the bar.

"Every night this week, my baby brother has begged Emmett or Lauren or me to close for him so he can go with you," she tells me. "And we've done it because you two are pretty cute together… and he makes a really sad face when he talks about not being able to leave. But tonight the pouty face didn't work with any of us. He's going to have to stay."

I know exactly what sad, pouty look she means. I got it Monday night when I said I was sleeping at my own apartment… I gave in, too. In fact, I haven't slept in my own bed for a week.

"Maybe you'll finally get some sleep tonight, Bella," Alice teases, nudging my arm with her elbow. In spite of my embarrassment, I smile as they laugh. Thankfully, they move on to another topic as Rose mixes martinis for Alice and me. I listen, but stay quiet as I sip my drink… and look around for Edward. I haven't seen him since we came in ten minutes ago.

"You're as bad as he is," Rose huffs, tapping the bar in front of me to get my attention. "He's upstairs with my dad."

"Oh… I… I wasn't," I reply, then chuckle when she rolls her eyes. "Okay, I was. I can't help it."

When I see movement on the stairs out of the corner of my eye, I turn to my left and see Edward and Carlisle coming down, deep in discussion, followed by Emmett.

"Tiny Dancer," Emmett says loudly, waving at me.

Edward stops at the bottom of the stairs to smile at me, and then glare at Rose. While Edward is standing still, Emmett skirts around him, walking over to wedge himself in between Alice and me. He rests his arms on our shoulders and kisses each of us on the cheek.

"What the fuck, Rose? I told you to send her upstairs if she came in," Edward grouses, moving to stand on the other side of me. He pushes Emmett's arm off my shoulder, then leans down and kisses me. "Hi, baby. How were classes?"

"Good."

Carlisle sits on the stool beside me as Edward walks behind the bar. Carlisle and I chat for a few minutes as we sip on the fresh drinks Rose sets in front of us. On my other side, Edward and Alice are whispering about something, but I can't hear what they're saying and don't want to be rude to Carlisle by turning to look at them.

They're speaking at a normal volume by the time Alice hooks her arm through mine a few minutes later and tells me she's leaving. Carlisle says he'll walk out with her and I stand to hug them both goodbye.

"Let me know how it goes with Aro," Carlisle says to Edward as he puts his jacket on. Frowning, I look at Edward just in time to see his eyes shoot my way. I lift one eyebrow curiously at him and he nods, silently letting me know he'll tell me later what Carlisle's talking about. Once they're out the door, Edward puts his elbows on the bar top and leans across it to talk quietly to me.

"I'm going to see Aro tomorrow afternoon," he begins.

I feel the blood drain from my face as I swallow nervously, afraid he found out that Aro has still been making inappropriate comments to me.

"About me?"

"No," he answers, then frowns. "Why? He's not fucking with you again, is he?"

"No, no," I reply more enthusiastically than necessary. Edward's face relaxes though, so I guess he didn't notice my artificial response. My breathing has returned to normal, at least, even though my heart is still pounding.

"I want to buy my building."

"Edward, that's great!" I say, reaching forward to grab his hands. The right side of his mouth curls upward in a half smile.

"Well, you know Aro. He probably won't make it easy… or cheap," Edward remarks, the smile fading from his lips. "And I want to buy your building, too."

When I start to pull my hands away, he tightens his grip. "Ballerina."

"We've discussed this, Edward," I say quietly, trying not to grit my teeth. "I don't want you to interfere between Aro and me. I can deal with him."

Agitated, I yank harder and successfully wrench my hands out of his grasp. I keep my eyes on his as I lift myself off the barstool and yank my coat from underneath me.

"Jesus, Bella. Hang on," he pleads as I put my arms through the sleeves. "Will you listen to me?" He picks my keys up from the bar top and puts them in his pocket.

"Give me my keys," I demand, holding my hand across the bar.

"As soon as I'm done talking," he retorts. "Number one, yes, it gets you out from under Aro's thumb at least with your business. He said some disgusting things to me about you the day you moved in. Probably similar to the shit he said _to_ you last fall. How long is your lease?"

"Six months," I answer tersely.

Edward looks surprised. "He didn't give you a year? You know that means he can pull your lease next month, baby?"

"I don't think he will," I say defensively. I feel like a fool now for signing the shorter lease, and the look in Edward's eyes confirms that he agrees. I know that I didn't make a good decision, but I was so grateful and excited at the time Aro offered it that I didn't bother to consult anyone. Embarrassed, I drop my gaze to the bar top and trace the grain of the wood with my index finger as I try to explain. "He said he was doing it as a favor. You know, in case the studio wasn't doing well. So I wouldn't be stuck paying rent."

When I look up, he's scrubbing his hands across his face. I can tell he wants to say something, but he's holding back.

"Okay, let's table that for now. Buying your building is also a good business opportunity for me. It gives me control over my neighbor."

"Now you want to control me?" Immediately, I'm right back to being pissed off.

Burying one hand in the top of his hair, he closes his eyes and exhales in a huff. "No, I don't want to fucking control you. I want to have control over _who_ leases the space next door," he says, clearly exasperated with me. "Your classes are packed, ballerina. There's a good chance you'll outgrow that building in a year or two. I want to choose who moves in next."

"Oh," I say, wishing I could retract my outburst. "I have issues with control."

"No shit," he says sarcastically, shaking his head slightly. "Where does that come from?"

"Where do your issues with relationships come from?" I retort snottily.

"A bitch I dated during college," he shrugs.

Dumbfounded, I stare at him for several seconds with my jaw hanging open. I didn't expect him to answer so readily.

"I… I… you never talked about it before," I stammer.

"You never asked," he replies matter-of-factly. "I answered your question. Your turn."

"I can't… here, Edward," I say, dropping my eyes for an instant before I force myself to look back up at him.

He nods. "At my place later?" He pulls both my keys and his out of his front pocket. "I have to close tonight." As he's talking, he slides a silver key off his keychain and puts it on mine.

"Don't give me your key," I argue.

"It's not my key. I had it made for you," he answers, smiling slightly when he looks up at me. "You remember the code to get in the parking garage?"

"Yeah, but I was thinking I should go to my apartment tonight," I say.

"I was thinking you'd be burrowed down in my bed when I got home tonight," he replies. Oh, shit. He's making the sad, pouty face.

"Stop making that face. It's not gonna work every time."

"But it's working this time?" he asks, smiling and lifting his eyebrows at me. Rolling my eyes, I nod, then laugh when his eyes light up. As he hands me my keys, he leans across the bar and I meet him halfway, kissing him twice.

* * *

After I use my new key to let myself in his condo, I drop my keychain on the console table just inside the door – right under the wall sculpture he bought during our first real date. My keys skid across the table and I notice there are several faint scratches on the wood – this is where Edward always leaves his keys, too.

Carrying my duffle bag, I walk down the hallway to his bedroom. I take a shower, dry my hair, put on yoga pants and one of Edward's t-shirts. Then I wander. I wander to the living room and turn on the tree lights. I wander to the kitchen and unload the dishwasher, then reload it with the dishes Edward left in the sink earlier today.

Finally, a little after midnight, I get in bed. I flip through the cable channels on tv, but can't find anything to watch. I turn out the lights, but it's almost an hour before I go to sleep. I miss him… I've gotten used to falling asleep with his arms wrapped around me.

Later, through a sleepy haze, I hear the front door close, hear his keys hit the wood of the console table. I listen to his quiet footsteps coming toward the bedroom, and then feel his side of the bed dip when he sits down. Waking as he uncovers my head, I feel cool air on my face, feel his fingertips brush across my neck, pushing my hair out of the way.

"Hmmm," I sigh when he buries his face in my neck. Pressing his lips against the spot just under my left ear, he traces small circles on my skin with his tongue, arousing me immediately. "Hi," I breathe, rolling over to look at him.

"Ballerina, do you know how fucking good it is to come home and see you sleeping in my bed?"

"No," I whisper, burying my hand in his hair and my tongue in his mouth as I kiss him desperately. For several minutes, we're quiet, speaking only with our lips… our hands. Then he pulls back slightly to look at me.

"Get in here," I pant, wanting him between the sheets with me.

"I'm gonna hit the shower first," he says quietly, smiling at me. "Can't you smell me? Some drunk girl spilled her beer everywhere, including all over me."

"I smell you," I answer, leaning forward to kiss him again. "I don't care."

"I do," he chuckles against my lips. "I'll be right back, ballerina."

He kisses me once more then gets up, tucking the covers back around me. I close my eyes, but I'm still awake, listening to the water running in the bathroom and thinking about Edward… wet, naked Edward.

Before I lose my nerve, I slide out of bed and walk toward the bathroom, pushing the slightly ajar door open. I drop my t-shirt and underwear to the floor, then pull my hair up with the elastic band I left laying beside the sink. Taking a deep breath, I slide the shower door open and step into the steamy stall. Edward is standing with his back to me, leaning face-forward under the spray. When he hears the door, he turns his head to the side a little, but doesn't turn around to look at me.

"Want some company?" I ask, suddenly feeling shy as I close the door.

"Fuck, yeah, baby," he replies, holding one hand out behind him for me to take. As soon as my hand is in his, he pulls me forward until I'm pressed against him. Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss across his upper back while he flattens my hand over his pounding heart, holding it in place with his hand.

"I missed you tonight," I whisper against his skin. "I don't like being here without you."

"I'm hiring more bartenders," he replies earnestly, making me chuckle. "I'm not closing five or six nights a week anymore." As he's talking, he twists around, wrapping his arms around my upper back as he crashes his lips to mine.

While we kiss, breathing hard into each other's mouths, he turns us and pushes me carefully back against the tile wall. Moving his hands to my breasts, he squeezes lightly and brushes his thumbs across my nipples.

"Edward," I moan, clutching his shoulders as he lowers his head to my chest. Leaning my head against the wall, I close my eyes and concentrate on the feeling of his lips against my skin as he skims his mouth back and forth across the swell of my breasts. When I arch my back, he pulls my nipple into his mouth, sucking rhythmically, strongly.

At the same time, he drifts one hand lingeringly down my stomach, pausing to trace around my navel before reaching between my legs at last. I spread my legs farther apart as he glides his fingers back and forth, pressing my clit repeatedly.

"Oh… God," I whisper. I keep my eyes closed as I bury one hand in the back of his hair and lightly scrape the fingernails of my other hand down his chest. Groaning against my skin, he releases my breast and quickly moves to the other side. As soon as I can reach him, I wrap my hand around him, stroking him slowly.

"Fuck," he breathes, drawing the word out as he pulls his mouth away from my chest. "Open your eyes, ballerina."

When I do, he's looking intently at me. Reaching for my right leg, he lifts it, holding it against his hip for a moment, and then propping my foot on the tiled shower seat next to me. Keeping his gaze locked on mine, he reaches between my legs again, circling my clit lazily. I'm still stroking him, my movements jerky and erratic, but he groans quietly and closes his eyes for an instant, leaning down to kiss me. Simultaneously, he pushes himself more forcefully into my hand and eases two fingers inside of me.

Panting, gasping, I let my eyes close again as he kisses across my jaw and chin, pausing several times to press his lips to mine as he begins to move his fingers. I match his pace, speeding up when he does, until we're working each other frantically. Grunting, he pulls his hand away from me, pushing my hand away from him, too. Gripping my raised leg, he presses his hips against mine, sliding himself smoothly back and forth between my legs.

"Fuck," he groans, wrapping his other arm around my lower back to support me.

"Please," I pant, gripping his arms for balance.

"We can't… Jesus, Bella."

"Yes, we can," I breathe, then inwardly cringe at the shocked look on his face as he stops moving.

"What?"

"I've… been on the pill for three years. I should have told you sooner… but… we haven't talked about…," I let go of him, pressing my hands to the tile at my back, and close my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Baby, do you think I'm going to be mad at you?" he asks, skimming his lips across my cheekbone. "Because I'm having trouble understanding how this is bad news for me."

Opening my eyes, I find his smiling face right in front of mine. "I just… this isn't a romantic discussion," I huff. "We haven't talked about you… your past."

He nods, his face becoming serious. "My past. I haven't had sex without a condom in more than four years," he says sincerely. "And I got tested after we started dating. I should have told _you_ that before we slept together."

"So… we're good?" I ask, smiling as I raise my hands to his shoulders.

"Yeah," he answers, kissing me. I close my eyes as he slides his hand in between us, circling my clit again, driving me toward an orgasm… driving me crazy.

"Edward… God… oh, God," I cry out, pulling my lips away from his as I come.

Before I recover… before I've even opened my eyes, he's pushing inside me and lifting me up. I wrap my arms and legs around him tightly as I feel him adjust his grip on my upper thighs.

"Ballerina," he groans, lowering me until we're completely joined. "You feel so fucking good."

"You do, too," I whisper as he holds still, letting my body adjust.

"You okay?"

"Mmhmm," I moan. My eyes slide shut as he pulls out, then slides slowly back in.

He pumps steadily into me, but he's still careful, gentle with me. Even when I urge him to move faster – and he does – he's never rough. He hasn't really been uncontrolled with me since the first night we slept together. When he comes, he mutters my name and kisses me, breathing rapidly into my mouth.

After a minute, he turns and sits on the shower seat, holding me close, nipping at my lips. Finally, we stand up to wash and Edward laughs at the look on my face when I look down.

"Yeah, it's messier this way," he says. "Sorry, baby. I'll clean you up."

He pulls the tie out of my hair and pulls me into the stream of hot water with him. Then he washes me head to toe… some places more thoroughly than others.

* * *

When I come out of the bathroom after drying my hair, Edward is sitting in bed eating leftover pasta from last night.

"Want some?" he asks. "It's cold. I was too hungry to heat it up."

"I'll pass," I laugh, getting into bed beside him and leaning back against the headboard. I know he's waiting for me to tell him what he wants to know… what I probably should have told him weeks ago.

"So…," he leads, looking at me. "You gonna talk to me or what?"

"Or what," I mumble, but when I slide my eyes toward him and see the hurt look on his face, I immediately regret it and try to take it back. "I'm kidding. I'll talk."

"Why do you have control issues?"

Taking a deep breath and then blowing it out slowly, I begin. "You know my mom left when I was six."

"I thought your mom died when you were six," he interrupts, looking confused.

"No… left. She died when I was 21," I say, forcing myself to look at him even though I want to look away. "One day when I got off the bus from Kindergarten, she was just gone."

I swallow twice, trying to hold the emotion down. My memory of that day is hazy, but I vividly remember looking through the house for her… going into my parents' room and seeing her half of the closet empty.

"Bella," he says softly, turning to set his container of pasta on the nightstand before reaching for me.

"Fix your face," I warn him. "I'm not talking anymore if you're gonna feel sorry for me."

He rubs a hand across his face the way he does when he's upset, then moves to sit cross-legged facing me. Nodding, he takes my hand and looks at me normally.

"After that day, it was just me and my dad. I never saw her again… but she called me every year on my birthday." I grip his fingers a little more tightly and let my eyes drop to our joined hands as I take another deep breath. I force my gaze back up to meet his before I continue. "It was always a pretty short conversation. I looked forward to it though… and I thought it meant she loved me… thought about me. That was my truth, you know?"

"Yeah. I get it, ballerina," he says, now holding my hand between both of his.

"When she died, my dad and I went to Arizona – where she lived – for the funeral. I grieved for her… for this woman who I _believed_ loved me," I disclose. "It wasn't until after my dad died, actually it was right around this time last year, when I was going through all his financial records that I found out the truth."

I pause, looking down again as the tears I've been holding back flood my eyes, then spill over to slide down my cheeks.

"Baby," he says, his voice tight. He pulls gently on my hand, but I don't want to hug him right now… not yet.

"Let me finish," I whisper, using my free hand to brush away the tears on my cheeks. "My dad gave my mom money – a lot of money – once a year, every year. Always right after my birthday."

"Bella, you can't think–,"

"That he bought that phone call? That he lied to me my whole life about her, made me think she fucking cared about me? I absolutely think that," I say angrily, looking up at him. "I was so pissed at him when I found out the truth… and he wasn't even here for me to yell at."

I laugh hollowly. "It was worse, you know? Worse than if I just had never talked to her again. I know my dad did it so I would feel loved, but in the end, I just felt more… rejected by her. And controlled by him… my dad manipulated my emotions for all those years."

"You know your dad didn't do it to control you," he says softly.

I nod. "I know. It took me a while to forgive him though," I reply. "And I never want to feel that way again. I guess that's why I'm so hyper-sensitive about people telling me what to do… or having control over me."

I'm aware of the irony of what I'm saying… aware that Aro has a lot of power over me at the moment. I hope Edward doesn't point that out right now, but I have a feeling he's going to want to talk about Aro again soon. I feel terrible lying to him, but I _can't_ tell him the things that Aro is saying – the snide remarks, the suggestive comments – because, like it or not, Aro has some control over Edward, too. But if Edward is able to buy his building, then I will be able to be honest with him… after May.

It will ruin my fledgling business if Aro doesn't renew my lease. I need to sign for another six months, and then I'll figure out what to do after classes are over in May. I hate the thought of moving my studio – not being next door to Edward anymore – but I think that's probably the best thing.

Sighing, my thoughts shift back to my dad. He was the center of my life. I still miss him every day. His death, and my subsequent discovery of the ruse he carried out about my mom, left me reeling. Last year at this time, I was afraid I'd never get out of that dark place… but I did. I was afraid I'd never be happy again… but I am.

"Edward, besides Sue and Billy, no one else knows that stuff about my dad… about what he did. Not even Alice," I divulge, anxious for him to understand how deeply I trust him.

"Thank you for telling me, baby," he says.

I search his eyes, worried that I'll see pity… I don't. When he tugs my hand gently this time, I willingly go, leaning forward to hug him. He holds me tightly, rubbing my back soothingly. After a few minutes, I skim my lips along his bare shoulder.

"It's late," I remark.

"Almost four. You want to go to sleep?" he asks. I pull away to look at him, smiling slightly. He smiles back. "Me neither."

He's careful – almost hesitant – when he kisses me, pressing his lips to mine and then retreating several times. I know he cares about me… know he's trying to convey his feelings for me nonverbally. Neither of us has used the "L" word yet. I love him, but I don't want to say it unless I know he feels the same. It would be horrible if he said it just because I did… and even worse if he didn't say it back at all.

Placing my hand on the side of his neck, I hold him to me and deepen the kiss. He responds immediately, sliding his tongue slowly against mine. When the kiss goes on and on with Edward's hands remaining on my back, I wonder why – his hands are always roaming by the time we've kissed this long. Burying one hand in the top of his still-damp hair, I skim my other hand down the center of his chest to rest on his abs. As I glide my fingers toward the waistband of his boxers, he pulls his stomach in, but doesn't stop me… and still hasn't moved his hands.

Suddenly, it dawns on me… he's letting me lead. I break our kiss and open my eyes to look at him. His dark green gaze meets mine and he reaches one hand to my jaw, brushing his knuckles back and forth gently against my skin. Leaning away from him, I raise up on my knees and pull my t-shirt off, then straddle him.

"I want you to touch me, Edward," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Where?" he asks as I put my lips on his again.

"Everywhere."

As requested, he puts his hands where I want them, cupping my breasts for a moment before moving on. He does exactly what I asked, tenderly caressing my arms… back… legs. Several minutes later, I scoot backward off his lap to lie down, pulling him with me.

He continues touching me everywhere, stroking one hand down my chest, across my abdomen and then following with his mouth. His kisses are whisper-light against my skin, every movement deliberate, unhurried. He presses one final kiss against the skin below my navel before pushing back on his knees. I shift my legs so they're both on one side of him as he reaches for the waistband of my underwear. He slides them off, tosses them to the floor and then guides my legs back where he wants them. Keeping his eyes on mine, he skims his hands along the tops of my thighs.

"I want you," I murmur, arching my back when he pushes one finger inside me.

"I want you, too, Bella," he answers, leaning down over me. "I want you so much."

When he slides inside me a moment later, I gasp, letting my eyes close. It's different than earlier in the shower – not as deep… not as frantic… more of a slow burn than a flash fire. After almost a week of sleeping together, I'm becoming accustomed to the physical pleasure of being with him. But the emotional pleasure is still overwhelming – being connected to him this way brings more intense feelings for me each time.

"Ballerina, look at me," he says lowly, his lips against my cheek. Once our eyes meet, I hear him swallow loudly. "I will never try to control you."

Unable to answer him, I just nod and pull him close, wrapping my legs around him as we move together. He rolls us to our sides, helping me move my leg until it's comfortable. He continues to kiss me gently, then presses his forehead to mine as I clutch his shoulder. He doesn't increase his pace until I move more quickly against him. When I come, I call his name and he grunts into my neck a second later, holding still as I feel him climax, too.

Minutes later, when we're settled partway down the bed where I like to sleep, I pull his arm a little more tightly around my stomach.

"Thank you, Edward," I whisper. "For not feeling sorry for me, I mean."

"Baby, I told you the other day that I don't feel sorry for you," he says, resting his lips against my bare shoulder. "You're tough as shit. Knocked me on my ass the day I met you and I haven't been able to get up since."

"How did I knock you on your ass?"

"First it was your fucking legs in those shorts… and then it was your eyes. The second I looked into those big, brown eyes, I knew I was fucked."

Chuckling quietly, I ask, "I assume that's a compliment?"

"Yeah, ballerina. That's a compliment," he mumbles against my skin. "And I'm starting to like it down here on my ass anyway."

I twist my head his way to kiss him, our smiling lips meeting twice before I turn around again. Sleepy and happy, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep quickly, not awake enough to respond when he whispers goodnight.

* * *

Esme called me a few times over the last week, asking me to come and bake with her. So on Saturday afternoon, I stand in the Cullen's kitchen surrounded by the delicious aromas of Christmas. We've made pies and cookies and even a coffee cake. Edward came with me and wouldn't stay out of the cookie dough, so Esme sent him with Carlisle to pick up Maggie and her family at the airport.

"I didn't want to ask Edward," Esme says, turning off the mixer and looking at me, "but I gather things with Aro didn't go well yesterday?"

"He didn't really want to talk about it last night," I reply. "He called Aro a couple of names and then asked me to drop it."

"Goddamned asshole," she mutters, then, seeing my surprised look, she shrugs. "I've been Edward's mother for 26 years. His language eventually rubs off on you whether you want it to or not."

We both laugh and I tell her that I've been doing the same thing. After a minute, she turns the mixer back on and I get back to icing the coffee cake. I find myself smiling as I listen to Esme sing along to the Christmas songs on the radio.

"Bella, you've never mentioned your mother," she says hesitantly. I turn around to look at her, hoping I don't look as taken aback as I feel. "I'm not trying to pry, sweetheart. I just want you to know that you can tell me anything… and it doesn't go any further."

The silence between us stretches, and when I swallow, it sounds loud to me.

"I mean it," she finally says, then taps a finger against her lips. "Like a vault. You wouldn't believe the things Rose has told me over the years."

"Yes, I would," I smile, hoping to break the tension.

It works. Esme laughs loudly and turns off the mixer again. I swear her cranberry bread is never going to get done.

"You just fit right into this family," she says, walking over to hug me. "Let's sit for a minute and sample our goods."

She pours each of us a glass of hot spiced cider while I fix a small plate of cookies and we sit down at the table. She tells me about her family, talking a little about her parents, who are both deceased, but concentrating on Maggie. I think she's trying to make me comfortable enough to talk about my own family. I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about my parents, so I tell her about Sue becoming my substitute mom and always treating me like her own daughter.

"I doubt that was difficult, Bella," she says, smiling at me. "You must have been a delightful child. I'm sure everyone loved you."

Shaking my head slightly, I feel my eyes fill with tears… and then the whole story of my mom comes pouring out of me. Maybe it was still close to the surface after I told Edward… or maybe it's that I already feel close to Esme… whatever the reason, I tell her everything I told him. She stays quiet, letting me talk, but often reaching over to pat my hand or rub my forearm.

When I'm finished, I close my eyes, swiping at the tears running down my cheeks. The legs of Esme's chair scrape across the brick floor as she pushes away from the table, and then I feel her next to me, her arms around my shoulders, her head resting on top of mine. She rocks me slowly as I continue to cry, holding me tightly until I'm calmer.

Finally, I sigh. "I know you're probably wondering what kind of person I can possibly be… when I had a mother like that."

"What?" she gasps, pulling away from me quickly. I look up at her and see that she's been crying, too. Reaching behind her, she pulls her chair over and sits down right next to me so that we're eye to eye. "No, Bella, that's not what I was thinking. I was thinking how sorry I feel for your mom that she didn't know you… didn't know what an incredible person you are."

"I'm not," I mumble, dropping my eyes.

"My son says you are, so you must be," she pronounces, waiting until I look back up before continuing. "And I was thinking what a wonderful man your father must have been to have raised a woman like you on his own."

Pulling her apron loose, she lifts it up and holds a corner toward me. As I use it to wipe my eyes, she dabs hers dry with the opposite corner. When our eyes meet, we both chuckle. Once we're finished, she folds the apron and leans in to hug me again, patting my back softly.

"I'm sorry," I say when we pull apart. "We're supposed to be cooking with Christmas spirit, not crying."

To my surprise, she laughs. "Bella, women, no matter how old, sometimes just need a good cry. And now I think we need a stiff drink."

When she brings me a glass of amber-colored liquid a minute later, I don't even ask what it is. Esme and I tap glasses and slam the drinks.

"Uh oh," she says, taking my glass to the sink along with hers. "I hear the garage door. Stick close, sweetie. They come in like a pack of wild dogs."

When the door from the garage to the kitchen opens, the volume increase is immediate. Two boys run in, calling hello as they race by.

"They remember where Edward's old trains are, I bet," Esme says, sliding her arm through mine.

The next person through the door doesn't need an introduction – she looks just like Esme, only younger. She's carrying a sleeping younger boy who's probably two or three.

"Esme!" she yells, smiling. Her green eyes – the same as Esme's and Edward's – slide curiously my way before moving back to rest on her sister. Esme releases me to hug her, but puts her arm around my shoulders when they break apart.

"Mags, this is Bella Swan. Edward's girlfriend," Esme says.

Maggie's eyes widen as she looks from me to Esme and back again. "No shit? Well, apparently snowballs have a chance in hell after all," she laughs, leaning in to hug me with one arm. "That's what Edward told me last year when I asked if he had a girlfriend."

I laugh, too, as I return the hug. Over her shoulder, Edward comes through the doorway carrying an infant car seat with a pink-clad baby in it. He winks at me before turning to set the carrier on the counter. Esme moves away to look at the baby as Maggie lets me go.

"Why wouldn't my Godson mention that he has a girlfriend?" she wonders loudly, turning to look at Edward.

"You rode with my dad," he explains, standing beside me and putting an arm around my shoulder. I reach up to link my fingers with his. "You stuck me with Ben, one brat, and what's-her-name in my mom's car."

Maggie laughs. "Jesus, Edward. Do you know any of my children's names?"

"Nope," he answers, but I know he's teasing because he told me all of their names earlier today. He turns to me and leans down to kiss me, but stops short when he looks into my eyes. Frowning, he questions me so quietly it's barely even a whisper. "Have you been crying?"

"I'm fine. I'll tell you later," I reply, just as softly.

He nods and presses his lips to mine. "I'm gonna go help with luggage. Don't believe anything Aunt Maggie says about me."

"I speak only the truth," Maggie says.

Edward licks his lips as he lets me go and starts to walk away. "Ballerina, why do you taste like Irish? You and my mom been drinking?"

"I'm going to lay this one down and get Ben – that's my husband – to check on the other, uh, _brats_," Maggie says to me, shaking her head in amusement. "Then I want to have a glass of wine with you, Bella, and find out exactly what you did to make that boy so smitten with you."

By the time Edward and I leave his parents' house three hours later, my sides hurt from laughing and I think _I'm_ the one smitten… with Maggie.

"Edward, I really like your family," I say, twisting sideways in the passenger seat and leaning my head against the seat.

He reaches over to graze my cheek with the back of his fingers. "Of course you do. My mom got you drunk and Aunt Maggie told you all kinds of embarrassing stories about me," he smiles.

Reaching up, I pull his hand to my lips, kissing across the back of it. "Are you taking me home?" I ask, letting go of his hand when he has to move it to downshift.

Stopped at a red light, he turns to look at me. "If you want me to," he says. "I don't care where we sleep."

I don't either, but my heart skips a beat knowing that he wants to be where I am… it's the same way I feel about him. Reaching down, I unfasten my seatbelt and lean across the console to kiss him.

"I want you to take me home with you… to your bed," I murmur against his lips.

"You just like our Christmas tree," he teases, pulling back.

"I do like the tree," I admit. "But it's you, Edward. You have to know that. Light's green."

He faces forward again. "Buckle up, ballerina. I want to get you in my bed before you decide it really _is_ about the tree," he jokes, reaching for my hand as soon as my seatbelt is fastened. He pulls my hand to his mouth, returning the kisses I placed on his a moment ago.

"Hmmm. You could have me anywhere you want me," I say flirtatiously. "Bed, couch, floor, car."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bella," he says, swerving back into the right lane after drifting across the center line. "You can't say that shit to me while I'm driving." I giggle but remain quiet otherwise. And I swear I hear Edward mutter something under his breath about me trying to kill him.

* * *

Christmas Eve night, Edward and I walk into the church holding hands. It's just before midnight, so the church is crowded. I struggle in the dim light to see Carlisle or Esme, but Edward seems to know where he's going as he leads me up the aisle.

"My mom sits in the same spot every year," he whispers, smiling at me.

Finally I spot Carlisle sitting on the end of a row. He stands up and steps into the aisle, allowing us into the pew.

"Hi, kids," he whispers, patting my shoulder and then Edward's. I sit down next to Maggie, who's holding baby Bree. We whisper hellos to everyone, including Emmett, who's not good at whispering. I think everyone in the church heard him say "Hi, Tiny".

The church is candlelit and quiet as the bells ring at midnight. Just as the choir begins to sing, Edward puts his arm around me and leans over to whisper in my ear.

"Merry Christmas, ballerina."

Leaning into him slightly, I reply. "Merry Christmas, Edward."

I've only been to a Catholic church once before, but Edward helps me navigate the standing and sitting parts. When the crowd starts to kneel down, Maggie turns to me.

"Bella, do you want to sit and hold Bree?" she whispers.

Smiling, I nod and carefully take the sleeping baby from her. She shifts around in my arms, stretching and then sighing deeply as she curls into me. Edward twists around to look at me, then smirks as he leans toward me.

"That's exactly what you sound like all fucking night," he whispers.

He strokes his fingers down Bree's arm to her hand, then grazes my knee. On his other side, I see Esme yanking on his arm. Edward grins lopsidedly at me, knowing he's in trouble, then turns back around. Esme looks sternly at him… until I hear his whispered apology and see him kiss her cheek. She shakes her head at him, but smiles and pats his arm.

When mass is over, Maggie thanks me and takes the baby to put her in the carrier.

"You're welcome," I say quietly. "She's so sweet."

She buckles Bree in and then turns to look at me, smirking the same way Edward does. "She is… now. But don't be fooled, Bella. Even Edward started out this sweet."

"He's still pretty sweet," I remark, defending him automatically… even though I can hear him behind me calling Emmett a dickhead.

"Actually," Maggie says thoughtfully, "he _is_ sweet with you. You're very good for him."

I mumble a thank you as I tuck Bree's blanket around her.

When I straighten back up, Edward is right behind me. "Come on, ballerina. Let's go. I'm starving," he whines, holding my coat and helping me put it on. "Aunt Maggie, you want me to carry what's-her-name?"

She laughs, shaking her head at me. "Yes, Edward. Please carry what's-her-name to the car. Bella and I will walk out together. I didn't get a chance yet to tell her that horribly embarrassing story from your freshman year of high school."

"Hey, you promised you'd never repeat that," he protests, but he's laughing.

"I know, but I think Bella should know what she's getting into with you," she says jokingly.

Turning to smile at Edward, I grab his hand, squeezing tightly. "I only believe the good stuff," I whisper.

"You're smart enough to know it's all true," he remarks, shrugging. "Especially the bad stuff."

Narrowing my eyes, I shake my head at him teasingly. "Sorry, Edward. You're not going to drive me away that easily. If you want to get rid of me, you're just going to have to try harder."

Chuckling quietly, he leans down to rest his forehead against mine. "I'm not trying to get rid of you, ballerina. I'm not trying to do that at all."

He kisses me then, leaving his lips pressed against mine until Esme quietly clears her throat behind him. I feel my face flush as we pull apart.

"Don't be embarrassed, ballerina," he whispers, scooting past me to pick up Bree's carrier. "Kissing in church isn't _nearly_ as bad as what Mom caught Emmett and Rose doing at her Fourth of July party. Let's go. I really am starving."

We walk out of the church together – Edward carrying Bree with one hand and hanging on to me with the other.

* * *

It's after three when Edward and I finally leave Carlisle and Esme's after eating the middle-of-the-night breakfast prepared by the guys. They invited us to spend the night, but Edward declined. Actually, he said "no fucking way", expecting Maggie's kids to wake up in a couple of hours to see what Santa brought.

When we get to the condo, all the lights are off except the Christmas tree. Smiling, I stare at it while Edward pulls my coat off from behind me. I yawned the whole drive here, but I'm wide awake now.

"Sleep or presents, baby?" he asks, wrapping his arms around me.

"Presents. Duh," I reply, laughing with him when he chuckles in my ear. "But I want to change first."

When I come back to the living room after putting pajamas on, Edward has spread the furry, white blanket out on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. He's sitting in the middle of it, grinning widely, waiting for me.

"You first, ballerina," he says as he hands me a box. I rip the paper off excitedly.

"Full Moon t-shirts? One, two, three… seven Full Moon t-shirts?" I laugh. "Are you cutting me off from your wardrobe?"

"No," he answers. "These are ladies' tees… one in every color, for the daytime. I still want you to wear mine at night. At least until I take them off you."

Leaning forward, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. "Thank you. They're perfect." I reach under the tree to get one of Edward's gifts. "Your turn."

"Is it a Studio B t-shirt?" he jokes, glancing up at me as he tears the wrapping paper. He lifts one of the monogrammed beer glasses out of the box. "Baby, these are great."

"Are you sure?" I ask, biting my thumbnail. "I just… you don't have any and I know you have poker here next week."

"I'm sure. Thank you." He sets the box aside and scoots closer, getting as close as he can while we're both sitting cross-legged and facing each other. He kisses me as he hands me another wrapped box – they're silver earrings that he admits Rosalie helped choose. He opens a shirt. I open a cashmere sweater. He opens a small copper bowl embossed with small circles that matches the sculpture on the wall.

"It's for the table… for your keys," I explain, afraid that he doesn't like it by the way he's holding it in his hands, turning it around, studying it.

"Where did you get this?" he asks quietly. "They didn't have anything like this in the gallery."

"Yeah, I asked the sculpture artist to make it. The table… it's getting all scratched from the keys."

He nods. "Bella… this is the best fucking gift anyone's ever given me," he replies, looking up at me. He leans forward to press his lips gently against mine. "I have one more thing for you."

"No! We said three gifts," I remind him.

"I know. I broke the rules," he grins. "It's kind of funny now though."

I frown as he gets up and disappears behind the tree. The package he drags out is big… and it's one he told me was a gift for his sister. I stand and untie the bow holding the big bag around the box closed, then peek inside.

"An art crate? What did you do?" I murmur, raising on my tiptoes to kiss him.

He shrugs sheepishly, then helps me pull the top of the crate off. Whatever is inside is big… and made of copper. He lifts the sculpture out and leans it against the wall – it's like his. Two rectangular copper panels – one concave, the other convex. The sculpture hanging on his wall has trailing circles that look like rain. The one in front of me has Chinese writing on both panels.

"The same artist?" I whisper, blinking at it through the tears that have gathered in my eyes.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "We think alike, I guess."

"What does it say?"

"One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes," he answers.

Gasping, I look up at him. "My fortune?" I smile. "You're the one who took it?"

"Technically, Alice took it, but she did it for me… so I didn't fuck this up," he answers, smiling slightly. "We put it back."

"Yes, I know," I smile. "I couldn't understand why it wasn't anywhere one night, but was right back in its place the next afternoon. I thought I was crazy."

"You are… for spending all your time with me," he answers, smirking at me.

"Maybe _you're_ the crazy one," I retort teasingly, sliding up beside him and wrapping my arms around his waist. "Thank you, Edward. I love it." I press my lips over his heart and then crouch down in front of my sculpture.

"You're welcome."

Trailing my fingers over the characters, I whisper the words. "One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes."

"Edward Cullen," he says quietly from behind me.

"It says your name?" I ask, then take a stuttering breath.

"Yeah… well, I'm the one who admires you, so…," he says quietly. New tears pool in my eyes.

"Which part is your name?"

"I have no fucking idea," he answers. "It could actually say someone else's name and I'd never know."

I laugh as I trace over the metal again. "It's beautiful. I love that it's like yours," I say, sniffling quietly. Standing, I turn to face him and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. "I love it, Edward. I love it."

"Good," he says quietly.

We hug tightly for a minute, then I turn my head to press my lips to his neck. I pull them away, resting my head on his shoulder as I stare at the three little moles right above the neck of the t-shirt he's wearing. I can't help putting my tongue on them… and then kissing them… and then sucking lightly on them.

"Bella," he groans quietly, arching his neck back a little. He stands still as I raise up on my tiptoes, kissing up his neck… along his strong jawline.

"Yes, baby," I answer, rearing back to look at him as he digs his hands into my hair.

He swallows loudly, his green gaze boring into mine. "I… I, um," he stammers, closing his eyes and leaning down to kiss me.

"Edward, I need you. Please," I whisper against his lips as I reach for the bottom of his t-shirt. He pulls his shirt, then mine, off before kissing me again.

"I don't want to wait," he mutters against my mouth, wrapping his arms around me to pick me up. He walks straight to the couch, expertly skirting the coffee table, and lowers us without ever stopping the movement of his mouth.

It's fast… passionate… intense. Each time I open my eyes, he's watching me. I try to keep mine open, but when I come, they slide closed again.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, then I feel him climax, too.

For several minutes, we lie still, catching our breath. I've turned my head to look at the Christmas tree, staring at the colored lights for so long that they blur together – or maybe it's the tears that are clouding my vision.

"You want to sleep out here?" he asks quietly, getting up to get the blanket after I nod.

Once we're settled, intertwined and facing each other, I take a deep breath. "Thank you… for making this Christmas so good," I whisper, trying to keep my voice even. "Last year was… I mean, I wasn't sure I'd ever enjoy Christmas again. But with you, with your family, it's been one of the best holidays I've ever had."

I feel guilty for saying that – like I'm being disloyal and ungrateful to my dad. But it's the truth. And I think my dad would understand what I mean.

"I feel the same way," he answers quietly, brushing his lips against my forehead. "Bella, I…."

I wait several seconds, but he doesn't finish his sentence. "What?"

"Nothing. Nevermind," he mumbles.

That's the second time he's started to say something and then… oh. Oh. Smiling, nuzzling into the front of his neck, I wonder if he was going to say what I _think_ he was going to say.

I want to tell him how I feel… I want to tell him it's okay if he's not ready to say it. But I don't want to push him – not now, not yet.

"Merry Christmas, Edward," I murmur instead.

He tightens his arms around me as he replies. "Merry Christmas, ballerina."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Happy spring! Hope everyone is well - it's been a bumpy few weeks for me with traveling husband, sick kids, and crazy work life (plus a late-night visit to ER for Mr. Jayhawk, who will be doing whatever I want for a while after his latest bout of idiocy).**

**I was lucky enough to see The Hunger Games with a group of area Twi ladies last night! So much fun! I hope to see them all again soon! :) **

**A fantastic lady, readergoof, made a beautiful banner for this story. I will link it on my profile (she sent me instructions, thank goodness!) Thank you, sweetie!**

**As always, big thanks to a fabulous beta, Windgirl810. She's a delightful friend and always questions in the right spots and corrects without judgment about why I put commas where I shouldn't or why I use so many ... **

**Also, three of my great friends preread for me. Littlecat358 amazes me with her writing and plot skill; Tennesseelamb makes me laugh and never fails to have an opinion (with which I usually agree). Michelle0526 is invaluable in helping me figure out if the emotions in the chapter are right. I love you all!**

**I can't stop messing with it, so all mistakes are mine. **

**Thanks so much for reading - please review!**

* * *

**BPOV**

"Don't go to work," Edward murmurs when I start to scoot out of bed. Rolling toward me, he clamps his arm across my waist and pulls me backward.

"I have to."

"Baby, please." The vibration of his deep, raspy voice rumbles through my back. Exhaling, I close my eyes and smile as he buries his face in my neck, kissing slowly toward my shoulder.

"Edward," I breathe. He slides his hand up to my chest, grunting quietly when he skims his fingers across my nipples.

God, it all feels so good… his lips, his warm breath on my skin… his fingers, now spread wide across my lower abs, holding me in place as he pushes his hips against mine. There hasn't been any of _this_ since Christmas Eve – which was only two days ago, but they were two very long days spent at Carlisle and Esme's. We got back to the condo after midnight both nights and went straight to bed – to _sleep_.

"It's Friday. You're not even supposed to work on Fridays," he reasons.

"I told you, Jess is out of town," I explain as I roll over. "Besides, you're working, too."

He grins lazily at me… and I suddenly realize that looking at him might have been a mistake. He's ridiculously handsome. Messy hair. Unshaven jaw. Piercing green eyes. I reach forward to scrape my knuckles over the stubble on his chin.

"Not 'til noon. And training the new bartenders will take three hours, tops," he replies, taking my hand and kissing my fingers. Still holding them, he lowers his head to my chest and brushes his open lips across my collar bone. "Stay."

"You don't fight fair," I moan, breathing rapidly. I wiggle my fingers away from his to bury them in his hair. He chuckles quietly against my skin, then rears back to look up at me.

"Ballerina, I've been in fights before," he responds, gliding his fingers slowly along the neckline of my tank top. "This is _way_ better than fighting."

He slides his hand down to cover my breast, squeezing gently. Arching my back slightly, I push myself farther into his hand as he circles my nipple with his thumb.

"Stay," he murmurs, kissing my chest again.

"I can't… but I want to… oh, God… I…," I whisper, breathing hard.

"Compromise?" he asks, rolling me onto my back and lying between my legs. He rocks slowly, gently against me. "Give me fifteen minutes, then I'll make coffee while you shower. I'll even drive you to work."

"I'll be late," I protest, trying to talk while he's kissing me. But I already know I'm going to agree – even if it means I don't get to work on time.

"I drive fast," he retorts, smiling against my lips. "You won't be late."

"Mmmkay," I mumble, then giggle when he kisses me eagerly. It only takes a second for my amusement to fade and be replaced by desperation as I pull at his clothes. Edward is more patient, taking his time, kissing the skin he uncovers on my stomach and my breasts until I'm writhing underneath him.

Finally, when there's nothing between us, he props himself up on his elbows and pushes into me unhurriedly, keeping his eyes on mine. As we move together, I keep watching him, wrapping my arms around his chest as he shifts higher, his pelvis pressing my clit with every stroke.

"Ahhh," I breathe, arching up to kiss his neck. When I lie back, he increases his pace and my hips jerk uncontrollably as I come, digging my fingers into his back. "Oh…God…Edward."

"Jesus, baby," he groans, thrusting faster until he comes. Gently, he collapses on top of me and I feel his fingers, his lips in my hair. I tighten my arms around his chest, smiling against his skin as my heart rate slows.

He pulls out of me and rolls to the side, grunting quietly and chuckling as he looks at the clock on his nightstand. "Twelve fucking minutes? Shit. That's embarrassing," he grumbles, but he's smiling as he reaches for me. Amused – and glad that we have a little time to lie here – I scoot toward him and rest my head on his shoulder while he glides his fingers up and down my back. "Isn't this better than working?"

Laughing, I place a kiss over his heart and slide my leg between his. "Of course it is. But I have to go in today. Aro already made a big deal about letting me have the day after Christmas off… out of the goodness of his heart."

"Aro doesn't have a fucking heart," he mutters, stilling his hand.

"Do you want to talk about what's going on with you and Aro?" I ask the question quietly, afraid it will upset him. We haven't talked about it for several days, but each time we do, he cusses and abruptly changes the subject without telling me much.

"Nothing to talk about. I made a fair offer. He's being a dick. End of story." He sighs heavily, then resumes stroking his hand up and down my back.

"He won't even discuss it?"

"He said he'd think about it, but he's fucking lying," he seethes. "Now that he knows I want to buy the buildings, he won't even consider it." I hear Edward's heart pick up speed under my ear. I tilt my head back to look at him, then frown when I see that he's scrubbing his other hand across his face… he's either upset or he's hiding something.

"Edward," I begin.

"Ballerina, I really don't want to get into this first fucking thing in the morning," he says, lowering his hand, pleading with his green eyes. "Can we talk about it later?"

I prop myself on my elbow and nod. "Sure," I answer, but I'm disappointed that he won't tell me… almost as disappointed as I am in myself that I'm not completely honest with him about Aro. He lifts a hand to my hair as I lean down to kiss him. "I have to get up."

"What if I cook breakfast, too? Will you stay then?" he asks, smirking slightly now that we're off his least-favorite subject.

"No," I answer reluctantly, dragging my hand across his upturned lips before I roll over and sit on the edge of the bed. I turn to smile at him over my shoulder. "But if you hurry with the coffee, you can shower with me. I'll wash your… back."

He throws back the covers and winks at me before he gets out the other side of the bed. "Deal," he agrees. Still smiling, I stand up and watch him walk out of the bedroom. "Hey, ballerina, the rest of me is pretty dirty, too. Want to wash anything else?" He doesn't turn around in the hallway, but I hear him chuckling.

I don't answer, but I laugh softly as my eyes follow his progress up the hall. I love that he walks around naked. I love staring at him while he walks around naked.

I guess he's not the only dirty one around here.

* * *

A little over an hour later, Aro walks into the law office.

"Oh, Bella," he says, sounding surprised to see me sitting at my desk. "I didn't see your truck in the parking lot, so I assumed you weren't here yet."

"I'm here," I reply needlessly, continuing to type the brief I've been working on since I got here. Aro disappears into the employees' kitchen and returns a moment later without his coat, but with two cups of coffee. He sets one on my desk.

"Black, right?" he asks.

"Actually, I like milk in my coffee," I answer, keeping my eyes on my computer screen so I don't roll them. "But it's fine. Thanks."

"Truck in the shop? I warned you that antique cars aren't reliable," he says, propping his hip on my desk.

"No, my truck is running fine," I reply, hesitant to admit that Edward drove me here.

"Ah, so the bartender gave you a ride? In more ways than one, I presume." he sneers.

Gasping, I whip my head to the right to look at him. I can feel my mouth hanging open in shock. My face scrunches in disgust. "Aro, that's… it's… so inappropriate ," I stammer, embarrassed that my voice is shaking, quivering with anger. But I'm afraid I sound weak.

"Come on, Bella. We're both adults here," he scoffs. "Anyway, I'm just trying to protect you. Prepare you. I know Cullen – know his type."

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do, Aro," I say slowly, swiveling my chair to face him. I'm still agitated, but I'm hiding it better now. My voice is steady, steely this time.

"Or perhaps it's you, Isabella, who doesn't know him as well as you think," he responds, smirking.

"I know him," I huff.

"Did he tell you that he's trying to buy your building?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, of course he did."

Aro, sipping his coffee, hmms and nods. "Of course," he remarks condescendingly. Then he leans across my desk, speaking more quietly. "And did he tell you about my counter-offer?"

No, he didn't.

My heart jumps into my throat. My chest rises and falls rapidly with my quick breaths. I search Aro's beady, black eyes for any sign that he's lying. He looks smugly back at me, knowing that he's got me rattled, seemingly reading the look on my face with ease.

"I guess he kept that particular discussion just between us," he smirks as I lower my eyes to my desk. "I wonder why he wouldn't tell you. I wonder what I asked for that he was afraid to share… with you. What could it possibly be?"

I know Aro mentioned the counter-offer for a reason. I understand that he's trying to make me question why Edward didn't tell me. Trying to make me worry about what else he's not telling me. And I hate that the bastard's succeeding.

Trying to calm myself, I pick up my coffee and take a drink, fighting the urge to make a face as I swallow the bitter liquid.

"No matter," he continues, setting his mug on my desk. "You and I have something to discuss as well, don't we?"

"What?" Still shaken by what he's already told me, I blink quickly as I look at Aro again. I can't think straight – my mind consumed by speculation about what Aro wants from Edward… from me. I don't realize what he's talking about as he stands and takes several folded pages from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. When he hands them toward me across the desk, I reach for them, pulling my hand away when he purposefully brushes his fingers along mine.

"It's the renewal of your lease on the building," he explains as I unfold the papers and look down.

My jaw drops. My rapidly beating heart stalls. My shoulders drop in defeat.

"Aro, this renewal is for a year," I say flatly.

"Yes. You sign for twelve months and, in return, I'll leave the rent at the current rate," he offers.

No. No. This isn't what I wanted. A year? I'll be stuck there… and here… for another twelve months if I agree to this.

"But we talked about a six-month extension," I reply, still dumbfounded. Why am I so shocked? I know what kind of man Aro is – and I should have expected something like this from him.

"I assumed you'd jump at the chance to freeze your rent for a year," he replies. "I'm doing this as a favor for you, Isabella. I've had several other inquiries on the property."

As I scan the language of the contract, he walks around my desk. I don't notice what he's doing until he's standing directly behind my chair. Startled, I jump when he leans down over me, resting his palms on my desk and trapping me between his arms. His chest presses against my back as he looks over my shoulder, his face so close to mine that we're practically cheek-to-cheek.

"I drew up the lease myself," he says, turning his head slightly, his coffee-breath fanning my face. "Of course, if the terms aren't to your liking, I'd be willing to discuss other… _options _with you."

"What kind of options?" I ask hesitantly.

"Hmm. Why don't we go somewhere private this afternoon? I'm sure we can come to a mutually, uh, _pleasurable_ conclusion," he answers.

"Aro, I'm not sure what you're suggesting," I lie, swallowing loudly.

Our conversation is interrupted by the ringing of the phone – thank God. But Aro lets it ring twice before he pulls away from me, brushing his arms against my shoulders as he stands. When I answer the phone, I'm relieved to hear Mr. Jenks, one of Aro's biggest clients, on the line. Aro will have to take the call.

After I tell him who it is, he picks up his coffee cup from my desk and walks toward his private office.

"Lunch, Bella," he remarks with his back to me. "I was suggesting we have lunch and discuss your lease."

That's not what he was proposing, and we both know it.

"I guess I don't see the point in signing a year-long lease if Edward might buy the building," I say, hoping I can reason with him, but I should have known better.

"I'll probably sell Cullen his building. But I don't think I want to sell the one you're leasing. I believe that building can be very profitable for me," he replies, stopping in the doorway and turning to face me. "We'll leave for lunch at noon." He shuts the door softly as I stare at it in open-mouthed revulsion.

Oh, my God. What am I going to do?

* * *

For the rest of the morning, Aro is all business. He doesn't have much choice since there are clients in the office most of the time. He doesn't say anything else inappropriate – he doesn't even talk to me except to ask me to bring him a file.

But I watch the clock creep toward twelve o'clock with a knot in my stomach… a throbbing in my temples. I can't concentrate on my work and find myself reviewing the same page of the brief over and over.

After Aro's last client of the morning is gone, he appears in his doorway, leaning casually against the frame. "Ready, Bella?"

Panicking, I glance at the clock. It's not noon yet. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to think of a way to stall.

"Uh… um… let me finish this paragraph," I mumble, pretending to be engrossed in my work. I sigh in relief when the office door opens a few seconds later and my guardian angel appears in the flesh.

"Surprise, B! I brought you lunch," Alice calls as she comes through the doorway. She freezes, feigning surprise when she sees Aro beside my desk. "Oh, hi, Mr. Volturi."

"Hello…," he says, not able to recall her name, I'm sure, even though Alice has been here several times.

"Alice. Alice Whitlock," she says as she sets down the take out containers on my desk. "I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything, Mr. Volturi. I assumed you'd be off spending time with your wife and children for the holidays." She says it sweetly, giving no indication that I texted her this morning and begged her to be here with lunch before noon.

Aro glances toward me, and I can see by his expression that he's suspicious about the timing of Alice's arrival, but he's also smart enough not to make a scene in front of her. He curls his lips into a smile as he looks at her again.

"No rest for the weary," he replies.

"Or the wicked," she asserts, laughing lightly. Her wide eyes and innocent tone allow her to get away with the remark, but I see the way his lips tighten. He knows her words were aimed at him. "Would you like half of my cheeseburger, Mr. Volturi? It's from the Full Moon. It's huge." She opens the styrofoam box to prove it.

He leans forward enough to see the burger, then wrinkles his nose in distaste. "No, thank you. I have work to do."

He glares furiously at me before he strides into his office, turning to rake his eyes over me again as he shuts the door with a controlled, soft click. Alice pulls up a chair in front of my desk and sits down.

"Spill," she whispers.

"Not here," I answer as she sets my lunch in front of me. I look down – it's a BLT with fries. Almost every Friday I eat lunch with Edward at the bar, and almost every Friday I order this. He laughs at me when I pretend to look at the menu before ordering the usual. "You didn't see Edward at the Full Moon, did you?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," she answers, keeping her voice quiet. "He made your lunch himself."

Closing my eyes, I swallow and close the lid on my sandwich. I'm too nauseated to eat.

"Do I need to stay here the rest of the day?" she asks, her tone low and somber.

I shake my head and open my eyes to meet her deep blue gaze. "No. Aro has appointments all afternoon. He'll leave me alone. And Edward is picking me up at four."

We both turn our heads as Aro's office door opens. "I'll be back for my two o'clock," he barks, not looking at either of us as he stalks past. "I want that brief finished and on my desk."

Before I have a chance to answer, he's out the door, shutting it soundly behind himself.

Once he's gone, Alice demands to know what's going on. I struggle to keep my eyes on hers as I relay what Aro did, what he said… _how _he said it. After I've told her everything, she sits still, blinking slowly at me for an entire minute.

"You have to quit, B," she finally whispers.

"I can't."

"You can live off the other money," she urges, but I cut her off.

"If I quit right now, there's no way Aro will sell either of the buildings to Edward," I say, looking down. "He'll refuse just out of spite."

"Edward won't give a shit about that!"

"But he should," I argue. "It's his business. He's dumped a lot of money into finishing the upstairs bar. I think I can outsmart Aro. I just need to figure out how."

"Bella," she warns.

"He only did it because Jess isn't here. She'll be back Monday," I say firmly, raising my eyes to meet hers again. "This is his pattern. He's not stupid enough to say anything in front of others. And he wouldn't force me to… you know. He doesn't want to go to jail."

"No, he just wants to coerce you or blackmail you," she says exasperatedly. "That's _so_ much better. He's practically a shoo-in for sainthood." She rolls her eyes and slumps back in her chair.

Sighing heavily, I raise my fingers to rub my temples. "Look, Alice. I know it sucks, but I will find a way out of this without ruining Edward's business."

"What about Studio B?" she asks quietly. "It's your dream."

"I won't give up," I answer, shutting my eyes briefly. "But I can move my business without losing much of my investment. Edward can't."

"What are you going to do about the lease? Won't Aro be tipped off if you don't sign it?"

"I don't know. I have to think about how I'm going to handle it." I dip my head slightly, looking at her from under my brow. "You can't tell Edward about any of this."

"I know I can't," she retorts. "That's _your_ job."

"As soon as they work out a deal for Edward's building, I'll tell him. I'll quit working here," I insist.

"Edward's going to be so hurt – so mad that you didn't tell him," she says, looking at me sadly. "Don't wreck what you two have going, B. Not over an asshole like Volturi."

"I won't. I won't." Even as I say it, I'm not sure if it's a promise… or a prayer.

* * *

I look nervously at Aro's office door and wonder if I should interrupt. Since Claire O'Rourke barged her way into his office and slammed the door twenty minutes ago, the volume of their conversation has steadily increased. Claire is the opposing counsel in Aro's biggest case and has been here twice in the last couple of weeks trying to work out a settlement.

Judging by some of the curse words I've heard through the door, I don't think they're close to an agreement today. But just as I start to get up, the door opens and Claire steps out, turning around to grasp the doorknob.

"Aro Volturi, you have no shame," she says, her voice low and full of venom. "You are a cold-blooded, cocksucking weasel. Someday you'll get what's coming to you. I only hope I have a ringside seat for the show."

She pulls the door closed, rattling the frosted glass pane. Clearly agitated, she huffs out a breath as she walks toward me. She sets her briefcase down in front of my desk while she puts her coat on.

"Sorry, Bella. That boss of yours is such a snake. I shouldn't let him get to me, but he's just so aggravating," she says. "Why do you work for him?"

Smiling sardonically, I shrug. "Hoping for one of those ringside seats?"

She chuckles lightly. "You let me know if you ever think it's showtime."

She picks up her briefcase and starts to walk toward the door. I bite my lip nervously, wondering if the crazy idea blossoming in my head is a good one. Before I lose my nerve, I speak up.

"Claire," I say quietly, waiting until she turns around to continue. "Would you like to have coffee sometime?"

She studies my face intently, then slowly nods. "I have court Monday morning, but how about Tuesday?" she asks.

We agree on a place and time, and when I get into Edward's car twenty minutes later, I'm still smiling.

"Hi," I say, leaning across the console to kiss him.

"Hey, ballerina," he replies against my lips. He pulls back slightly and searches my eyes. "You okay? When Alice came in earlier, I got the impression that you were having a bad day."

"It was a crappy morning, but I'm good now," I answer honestly, hoping he'll drop the conversation there.

Edward tilts his head to the left, sliding his eyes away from my face to look over my shoulder.

"Fucking Volturi," he mutters. I twist around and see Aro standing on the sidewalk staring at Edward's car.

When I turn back around, Edward's jaw is clenched. He faces forward again, putting the car in first gear and mumbling curse words under his breath. Frowning, I watch as he looks in the side mirror before pulling away from the curb. He's even more irritated with Aro now than he was this morning.

"Edward, did something happen with Aro today?"

"No," he answers tersely.

"How come you didn't tell me about his counter-offer?" I ask.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, glancing quizzically at me as he shifts to second gear. "I told you he said he'd think about my offer. That was the end of our negotiation."

"Oh," I reply and then look down at my hands in my lap. "He said… he asked you for something."

"Nope," he replies, his tone clipped. "He didn't."

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. His face is a little red, there's a tick along the side of his jaw like he's grinding his teeth together. We ride in silence for a minute before he blows out a breath and reaches over to put his hand on my thigh. He squeezes gently as I cover his hand with mine, sliding my fingers in between his.

Turning my head, I stare out the window and think about what Aro said to me this morning. I know he's trying to cause trouble for Edward and me. I know he could be lying. But Edward has been so tight-lipped about his meeting with Aro that I wonder if he's holding something back.

Or maybe I just assume he is because I feel guilty for what _I'm_ holding back.

When we stop at a red light, I look over at Edward. He pulled my hand to the stick shift with his when he downshifted, but now he's scrubbing his other hand across his face. He looks upset – or worried. I don't want to be the reason he looks that way, so I lean over, resting my head against his upper arm. He kisses the top of my head, and then accelerates when the light turns green.

"I believe you," I say quietly… and it's almost true.

* * *

I wait anxiously in the booth of the coffee shop Tuesday morning, watching the door and absently stirring my coffee with a spoon. Claire should be here any minute, but she's not the one I'm watching for. It's Aro.

When Claire suggested meeting for coffee at this place, I readily agreed. But yesterday, I began to worry that meeting her in the diner on the same block as Aro's law office could be reckless. If he saw us, I think he'd be angry. Then again, screw him. I can talk to whomever I want, and maybe it would make him nervous to see that Claire and I are friendly.

Either way, it's making me bite my lip and wonder if this was a mistake.

Since Friday, I've been in a near-constant state of unease. Even though neither Edward nor I mentioned Aro again after the uncomfortable conversation in his car, it seemed to hang between us the rest of that night. By Saturday, things with us were back to normal, but I had flashes of heart-pounding, stomach-clenching anxiety throughout the weekend.

I need a plan… and I need it fast.

While I'm still watching the door, I see Claire come in. She smiles slightly when her eyes land on me and she makes her way toward the table. We exchange hellos and talk stiltedly about the weather for a moment until the waitress brings her a coffee and a cinnamon roll.

"You're so tiny. You probably never eat anything like this," she declares as she spreads a napkin on her lap.

"I do, too," I insist with a smile. "But I'm not very hungry this morning."

"Do you have big plans for tonight?" she asks interestedly. "Please say yes. My husband and I haven't been out for New Year's in three years – ever since we had kids. I need to live vicariously through someone."

We both laugh as I nod. "Yes, my boyfriend owns a bar, so we'll be there," I explain. "He's working, but they're having a band and my best friend will be there with me."

We talk for a few minutes about the bar… then she asks me for the name.

"I've heard of that place," she says, pursing her lips a little. "Doesn't Aro own that building? I think he's the one I heard about it from."

"Yes. And he owns the building next door where my dance studio is," I respond.

"Oh, my," she says, setting her fork down with a clank. "Showtime, huh? Bella, let me stop you before you say anything else. If you're going to say anything you don't want repeated, we need to make an agreement right now that I am your legal representative and you expect this conversation to be privileged."

"Oh, um, okay," I frown, wondering if I'm now going to be charged $200 for this cup of not-that-great coffee.

"Pro bono, of course," she adds softly. "It's just a formality. But I want you to be protected. And now that we have that out of the way, tell me what Aro's up to."

I start talking, worried that my words are coming out in a jumbled mess, but she seems to be getting it all – she stops me several times to ask for clarification. When I've finished, she meets my brown eyes with her own.

"I'm going to give you my professional opinion first, okay?" she asks, continuing when I nod. "If you choose to file a sexual harassment or hostile work environment case against him, it's going to be your word against his. He hasn't allowed any witnesses to this behavior or put anything in writing. It will be difficult to prove, and you'll be dragged through the mud, especially with Aro on the opposite side. He's the slimiest lawyer I've ever had the misfortune to know."

"That's basically what I figured," I remark.

"Start documenting, Bella. Every time he says something inappropriate, every time he puts his hands on you, brushes up against you. Write it down," she advises. "That is one thing that might carry some weight if you ever go to court."

"Okay. I'll do that," I agree.

"Now, for my personal opinion. You need to get out of there as soon as you can," she says, leaning forward across the table. "You give it a month or two, but if there's no movement on the building sale, quit. Okay?"

"Okay," I answer. "What about the lease he wants me to sign?"

"Sign it. I can get you out of it if I have to," she shrugs. "Aro is nowhere near as smart as he thinks he is. He's devious though; don't underestimate that."

"I won't," I reply, relaxing a little since I feel that I have an ally who's on equal footing with Aro. "Now, can we talk about something else? I have to leave in a few minutes, and I really do like you, Claire. This – asking you for coffee – wasn't just about Aro."

"For me either, Bella," she smiles.

For the next fifteen minutes, neither of us mentions him. And by the time we leave the diner, we've traded cell phone numbers and planned to have coffee again next week.

"Same time, same place?" I ask as we part ways on the sidewalk outside.

"Sounds good," she agrees. "And Bella? I expect to hear all about your New Year's kiss – so you'd better make it a good one."

"I intend to," I laugh, hugging her when she moves toward me.

As I turn away to walk down the block to the law office, I feel lighthearted for the first time since last Friday. I still don't know if I'll be able to outmaneuver Aro… but now I think I have a chance.

* * *

It's almost twelve hours later when I open the side door of the bar and stop short as I run into a solid wall of people. It's even more crowded than it was for the Halloween party. I smile widely, knowing that Edward will be pleased with the turnout.

"Bella!" Alice chides, bumping into me from behind. "You can't do that."

"Sweetheart, I don't think she had a choice," Jasper says loudly, able to see over both of our heads.

I push my way in a few feet, craning my neck toward the bar. In the dim light, I find Edward, smiling… working. I keep my eyes on him for a few seconds, but he's busy and doesn't look my way.

"Oh, my God! It's about fucking time!" Rosalie yells, pushing through the sea of people to get to us.

"Hi, Rose," I say loudly as she appears in front of me.

"Come on!" She latches onto my wrist and turns back around, ordering people to move out of her way. I reach behind me for Alice's hand and pull her along, too. "I had a hell of a time holding this table."

She leads us to a table for six in the middle of the bar – not too far from the dance floor, but still close enough to the bar that I can see Edward. Or I would be able to if there weren't so many people in the way.

"I don't think there's going to be much table service," Rose announces. "But I'll have Edward bring you beers to get you started."

"Thanks, Rose," I smile, turning to hug her. "Happy New Year."

"Yeah, I'll be happy in about six hours when we close," she laughs, returning the hug. "I'll watch for Jake and Leah and send them this way."

When Edward approaches soon after, I stand up to hug him. I haven't seen him since I left the condo early this morning to meet Claire.

"Hey, ballerina," he says, smiling at me as he sets a bucket filled with ice and beer bottles on the table. He kisses me quickly before wrapping his arms around me to pull me in close. "You look great."

"Thanks. You, too," I whisper in his ear.

"You know those are my favorite boots," he breathes in my ear, sending a tingle down my spine. Yeah, I know he likes the motorcycle boots. Alice had a little fit when I wouldn't wear the spiky heels she picked out for me, but Edward comments on the boots every single time I wear them. And I think they look good with my dress, even though Alice was mad about that, too. No matter how many times I tell her that tight dresses covered in sequins aren't me, she insists on trying to get me to wear them.

"I know," I reply, arching back to look up at him. He bends down to kiss me again.

"Hey! Hands off my sister!"

Pulling away from Edward, I turn to look at Jake and Leah.

"You're not my brother, Jake," I protest, laughing.

"Close enough," he shrugs. "Hey, Edward."

"Hi, Jake… Leah," Edward answers as he and Jake shake hands.

"Hey, Bells, Mom and Dad asked a ton of questions about Edward when I was home for Christmas. I told them to drive down one weekend and meet him," Jake says as he hugs me.

"Jaaaaaake," I groan.

"Don't worry. I told them he's cool," he replies. Then he adds teasingly, "You owe me twenty bucks."

"Shut up, dork," I chuckle, punching his arm playfully when I pull away. Beside me, Edward is laughing, too.

"I need to get back behind the bar," he says, turning toward me. "But I'm only working 'til 11:30. Emmett and Rose will take over after that."

"Really?" I ask excitedly, reaching for his hand. "How did you get them to do that?"

"They owe me. When they first got together last New Year's, they locked themselves in my office for almost an hour and left Lauren and me alone tending bar," he says with a smirk. "This is my reward for not firing their asses."

I smile against his lips as he kisses me again before he walks away.

We sit at the table drinking for the next hour and a half. As soon as the band starts, Alice, Leah and I grab our beers and get up to dance, leaving Jasper and Jake at the table.

"You guys have to save me at midnight," Leah says loudly, leaning close to Alice and me so we can hear her over the music. "Jake wants to go to the car and have sex."

"Oh, God, I love car sex," Alice moans, grabbing Leah's arm. "Why don't you want to?"

"In the parking lot of a bar? I don't know," she shrugs. "It just seems… cheap or…"

"Hot," I add, then clamp a hand across my mouth.

Both of them turn to look at me. "Are you drunk, Bella? You never talk about this stuff," Leah remarks.

"Yeah, she's definitely tipsy if she chimes in," Alice grins.

"'Fess up, sister," Leah demands. "I want to hear about sex with the beautiful one." She pauses to take a drink of her beer.

"It's good," I say.

"Good?" she asks, eyebrows up, beer down.

"Yeah, it's great," I nod. Shit, I think I'm drunk. I can feel my brain pushing me to tell them how I really feel – and I know I'll regret it later.

When the band segues into a slower song, Alice pulls Leah and me over to the side of the dance floor where we can continue to talk without the guys hearing.

"Is it wild?" Leah asks.

"Um, no," I shake my head. I glance toward the bar and see Jasper sitting on a barstool – talking to Edward. Edward is leaning on his elbows, his head bent across the bar.

"Have you tried all the positions in that booklet we got the night we went to Whispers?" Alice laughs, drawing my attention back to the conversation.

"Um, no," I repeat. "Pretty much just the one, you know, position."

"Hold up. Edward motherfucking Cullen, with the reputation he has, is the missionary man?" Alice wraps one arm across her waist and bends forward to laugh.

"Don't laugh! The sex is good. It's very sweet… very gentle… and mostly very horizontal," I admit. "God, I sound like a bitch."

"No, B. I get it," Alice replies, squeezing my arm. "Jasper did the same thing. It's like they get some reformed manwhore disease."

"Really?" I ask hopefully. Alice's statement makes me feel better because she tells me all the time about how great their sex life is.

"Really," she smiles. "Jasper never would admit it, but I think he was trying to prove to me, or maybe to himself, that he was capable of being a good boyfriend. He just thought being a good boyfriend meant he had to be gentle and boring."

"How'd you get him over that?" Leah asks.

"Lingerie and dirty talk. Worked like a charm," she shrugs. And then, because she's Alice, she overshares. "That night we had the most wild… earth-shattering… I-think-I-could-die-from-pleasure sex."

She sighs and holds her cold beer bottle against her forehead. Leah glances over at our table where Jake is sitting alone and sighs. I turn toward the bar and see Edward looking back at me. I smile… but he doesn't. I can't read the expression on his face. He doesn't look mad, but he's definitely not happy.

"Bella, don't be upset about the sex," Alice scolds, tugging on my arm until I rip my eyes away from Edward's and look at her.

"I'm not," I mumble. But I'm completely unsettled by the look my boyfriend was just giving me. I lift my beer and drink the rest of it down, then follow when Alice starts to walk toward our table. When I turn to look at Edward once more, his attention is back on Jasper.

"Shots!" Leah exclaims when we get to the table. "Rose brought them for us. Drink up, girls!"

"To mind-blowing sex!" Alice yells, raising her plastic shot glass high. Even Jake will toast to that, and we drink the shots at the same time. It doesn't take much prodding from Alice for me to do another.

When Alice and I weave our way through the crowd twenty minutes later, Jasper and Edward aren't where I last saw them.

"Where'd they go?" I ask Alice, stopping and swaying slightly on my feet.

"I don't know," she says, stopping and swaying slightly on _her_ feet. Wait. Is she swaying or am I swaying? Not sure. "Come on, Bella. The bathroom line is gonna be so long and I really have to go."

She's right. We have to wait a while for our turns, and when I come out of the bathroom, Alice isn't in the hallway. I guess she didn't wait for me. I stop at the end of the bar and boost myself up to kneel on an empty stool, then look down the bar, searching for Edward, but I only see Emmett and the three new bartenders. I smile at Emmett as he approaches me.

"Happy New Year," I say, bending down slightly to kiss his cheek when he leans across the bar to me.

"Back atcha, Tiny Dancer," he answers. "Need a beer?"

"Sure," I reply as I slide off the stool and stand on the floor again. Standing on my tiptoes, I rest my crossed arms on the bar.

"Edward's in the back if you're looking for him," Emmett remarks as he sets a bottle in front of me. He props his elbows on the bar, too, and then leans forward to speak quietly… well, quietly for Emmett, which is still pretty loud. "He's pissed at Tanya. I don't know what she did this time, but he looked like he was about to lose it."

"She's back there, too?" I ask. When Emmett nods, my stomach clenches reflexively as jealousy flashes through me. I know it's stupid; he can't stand her. But that's never stopped her from trying. And the thought of them being alone in his office bugs me. I smile though, and shrug as I answer Emmett. "I'll leave him alone then. I'll catch him when he comes back out." Emmett moves down the bar to wait on someone else, so I turn to walk back toward our table.

"Excuse me. Excuse me," I say as I twist sideways to slip through the crowd. I'm not really looking at the faces I pass, intent on getting back to my seat, so I'm surprised when someone grabs my upper arm and says my name. His grip is tight and stops my progress immediately. I stumble backward a step, causing some of my beer to slosh out the top of the bottle and onto my chest. "Hey!" I turn to the right to face the grabber – it's James.

"Hi, Bella. I was wondering if you'd be here tonight," he says. Luckily, I haven't seen him since that night four months ago when I came here with him to make Edward jealous… and then Edward left with Kate… and then Rosalie had to save me from James at the end of the night.

"Oh, hi," I reply, stepping back and gently pulling my arm away.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he smiles.

"Just got one, thanks," I answer, holding up my almost-full beer.

"I'll get your next one then," he says as I look around anxiously for Alice or Jasper or Jake. But I'm mired in the middle of the crowd. "Unless you're here with someone."

"Uh, yeah. Edward," I reply, turning toward him again.

"You're fucking kidding me," he barks derisively. "That son of a bitch! I knew it when he got me kicked off this delivery route for talking to you."

"What?" I ask, frowning up at him. I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Edward called in a favor with the distributor and boom! I'm off the suburb circuit and driving fucking downtown all day," he says snidely. "You didn't know he did that?"

No, I didn't.

"I'm sure it didn't have anything to do with me," I offer, shaking my head at him.

"Jesus, you really are as naïve as you act, aren't you?" he asks condescendingly. "It had _everything_ to do with you. I had a feeling he wanted you for himself… even though you're not really his type."

Why is everyone always telling me that? Irritated, I roll my eyes at him as I take a drink of my beer.

"There," he says, lifting his chin in the direction of a tall, blonde woman standing nearby. "_That's_ his type. Or the one next to her. Or any of the blondes here wearing short skirts."

"Edward and I have been dating for a couple of months," I retort defensively, narrowing my eyes at James. I'm pissed at him… and I'm a little pissed at Edward, too.

"He's your _boyfriend_?" he scoffs, throwing his head back to laugh. "What a dumbshit. Edward Cullen doesn't have a faithful bone in his body."

"That's enough, James," I seethe, backing away from him. "I'm not going to stand here while you insult Edward."

I turn to walk away, almost making it out of the crowd before he grabs my upper arm again, gripping more forcefully this time.

"I wasn't insulting Edward, sweetheart," he says when I face him, yanking my arm from his fingers. "I was insulting _you_…for believing he'll treat you differently."

Turning my head to the right, I spot Edward. He's finally back behind the bar – and glaring in our direction.

"Okay, asshole. It's time for you to move away from her before my brother sees you," Rose interjects, pushing her way between James and me. I don't interrupt to tell her that Edward's already watching. "Go, Bella."

When I turn toward the bar, Edward is talking to Ben, one of the new bartenders. Immediately, Ben looks at where Rosalie and I are standing, then rounds the end of the bar, heading straight for us. Edward is staring at me again. I start walking toward him, and he moves to the end of the bar to meet me.

"Ben is gonna get James out of here," he says, bending down to speak lowly to me. "He won't bother you anymore."

"I didn't say he was bothering me," I snap.

"Yeah?" he retorts, raising his eyebrows. "Well, he was fucking bothering me."

Taking a step back, I look up at him, feeling the alcohol-fueled, irrational anger race through my veins. I know I'm acting like a bitch, but I'm tired of hearing about Edward – his type, his past – from everyone.

"I need to talk to you in private," I say. I tip my beer bottle up to finish it, then set it on the bar.

He lifts both hands to scrub across his face. "Of course you do," he scowls as he lowers his hands. "That's exactly the kind of fucking night it's been. Let's get it over with."

He leads me down the hallway toward his office, pulling his keys from his front pocket. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, standing aside to let me walk in first. After he follows me in, he kicks the door shut with his foot and walks to the front of his desk, then sits back against it. I stand several feet away from him, arms crossed over my chest.

"You coming closer?" he asks quietly.

"No."

"What the fuck did I do, Bella? Is this about James?" he asks. When I nod, he continues. "He's a prick. Over the last two years, he's screwed every woman who's worked for me except Rose. I don't want him anywhere near you."

"And I don't want you trying to control my life," I remind him.

"No shit," he retorts. "Message received loud and clear. _Jesus_." He lifts his hands to scrub across his face again.

"Then stop treating me like a possession," I say through gritted teeth.

"I don't want to fucking possess you," he says, closing his eyes. He pushes his hands into his hair and shakes his head. "Why can't you understand that I just want to protect you?"

"Why can't _you_ understand those things feel the same?" I ask. "Either way, it's you doing things that affect my life without telling me."

"Bullshit, Bella," he says as he opens his eyes. His usually-bright green eyes are dark and furious. I've seen that look in his eyes before, but this is the first time it's been aimed at _me_. "Don't project all your crap onto me. I haven't interfered _at fucking all_ since you asked me not to. I haven't stepped in with Aro, although I should."

"I can handle Aro," I reply firmly.

"You certainly must think you can," he responds slowly, his tone dripping with anger, "since you aren't fucking telling _me_ the stuff he's been saying to you."

I take a step back and lower my arms, wrapping them across my queasy stomach. Wishing I'd never started this argument, I struggle to keep my eyes on his, swallowing nervously under his unyielding glare.

"Jasper?" I whisper, suddenly realizing why Edward was looking at me so strangely while Jasper was sitting at the bar.

Edward takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. His hands, resting on the desk on either side of his hips, clench and unclench several times. He nods, and then bows his head to look at the floor.

"How do you think it makes me feel that you tell everyone else in your fucking life about the crap Aro does, but don't tell me?" he asks, his voice still angry, but quieter. "It feels shitty, Bella. It feels shitty to hear it from fucking Jasper."

"I didn't tell Jasper. And I couldn't tell you, Edward," I say, trying to explain my wayward logic. "I was afraid you'd say something to him… ruin your chances of buying these buildings. Why do you think I keep working for him? I can't quit until it's all settled."

"Or until he finally does something horrible to you," he seethes, fixing his stormy gaze on me again.

"I don't think he will," I whisper.

He exhales in a disgusted puff. "Fine," he mutters. "We'll keep doing this then. It seems to be working just fucking great."

He pushes himself off the desk and stomps toward the door, muttering curse words under his breath.

"Edward, wait."

"I gotta get back to work," he snaps, not stopping or looking back at me. He opens the door and walks into the hall. "Shut the door when you come out."

* * *

I wait a full ten minutes in Edward's office before I step into the hall, closing his office door behind me and making sure it's locked. As I pass by the bar, I get a glimpse of Edward – way at the other end – but again, he doesn't look at me.

When I sit back down at the table, everyone seems to understand that Edward and I are fighting. No one asks about it at all, but Jasper apologizes.

"It's my fault, not yours," I offer, shaking my head. "I knew I was being stupid to keep it from him."

"I didn't know you hadn't told him. By the time I figured it out, I'd said too much," Jasper says, putting his arm around me and pulling me in. He kisses the top of my head before releasing me.

The party at the table continues, but I switch to Diet Coke. I don't feel like drinking anymore. I spend most of the next hour watching Edward, but it's not like it usually is when I'm here and he's working… when he winks at me… licks his lips and raises his eyebrows until I laugh. He's completely avoiding any eye contact with me.

Twice I see him go out the side door carrying a pack of cigarettes in one hand and a tall glass of amber-colored liquid – probably whiskey – in the other. The first time he comes back inside, he doesn't look at me. But the second time he does. Our gazes meet and hold, neither of us smiling at the other.

I try to participate in the conversation at the table, but I'm not really paying attention to what they're saying. I mostly just laugh when they all do… and drink Diet Coke until I'm not tipsy anymore and there's a faint throbbing across my forehead.

When everyone else goes to the dance floor, I stay seated, and then watch warily as Tanya comes toward me carrying a drink. She's never nice, so I'm always suspicious.

"Here, hon. Just the way you like it," she smirks, setting the soda – without lemon – in front of me. She plops down in the chair beside me, uninvited. "I tried to tell you. Edward is _not_ monogamy material."

"Go away, Tanya," I say tiredly, bending forward to take a drink from the straw even though I don't trust her. Maybe if she slipped something in my drink, I can fall asleep and wake up in two weeks.

"I knew he'd give you the boot eventually," she continues. "Jesus, how pathetic is it that you're still here? He's done everything but kick you out of the bar. At least have enough pride to leave now that he's broken up with you."

"We didn't break up," I say passively.

"Really? Because he certainly seems to be enjoying himself with the blonde at the bar," she retorts snidely.

I try to stop myself. I know she's baiting me, but I glance up anyway and follow her line of sight until I spot Edward. He's standing at the end of the bar talking to a woman in a shiny, short dress. She's laughing, hanging on to his arm. He doesn't really look like he's happy, but he's not making any effort to get away from her either.

God, I'm gonna throw up.

"Tanya, I've been covering your fucking tables, and you're back here harassing my brother's girlfriend?" Rosalie asks incredulously, appearing on the other side of the table to yell at the bitch. "Either go cover your section or get your shit and leave."

Tanya huffs as she stands, but she smiles smugly as she walks away.

"Don't let her get to you," Rosalie advises.

"She's not," I say, shaking my head. I look at Edward again. Now he's sitting beside the blonde, turned sideways on the barstool to talk to her. And he's got another tall glass of whiskey.

"What the fuck is he doing?" Rosalie mutters when she twists around to look at him. "Fucking idiot." She stomps away toward Edward, but I don't want to watch. I get up and scoot around to the other side of the table so I don't have to look at him.

Between the loud music, the rapidly-approaching sobriety and the boyfriend who might not be a boyfriend anymore, my head is pounding by the time everyone else sits down. I ask the girls, but no one has any ibuprofen with them. Alice flags Rosalie down and asks her.

"Here," Rose says as she hands me her keys. "There's some in the top left drawer of Edward's desk. Help yourself."

"I don't want to go into Edward's office," I grumble, trying to give back the keys.

"Quit being such a girl," she scolds. "He won't even know you're in there. Come on. I'll distract him so you can sneak by."

As promised, Rose wedges herself in between Edward and the blonde – well, that's not what she promised, but she does it anyway. And while she's got his attention, I rush by carrying my drink in one hand and Rose's keys in the other.

In Edward's office, I quickly find the medicine and pour two pills into my hand, then wash them down with Diet Coke. I drop the bottle back in the drawer and push it shut. When I look up, Edward is standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing back here?" I ask.

"My office. What are you doing back here?"

"I needed something for my head," I answer. "Rose sent me back here."

"Rose sent _me_ back here, too," he says, walking into the room.

I should have known she'd do something like that. Tricky bitch.

"I was just going," I mumble, stepping around the side of the desk. After a few steps, I realize I left my drink on his desk, but I'm too focused on getting out of here to go back for it.

Just as I get to the door, he reaches around me and pushes it shut.

"Edward, what –," I start as I twist around to face him.

His lips are on mine before I can finish speaking. He sweeps his tongue into my mouth, tasting of Jack and cigarettes, and I grip the front of his shirt as he grasps my shoulders. Off balance from turning so quickly, I stagger backward, pulling him with me. When I land against the door with a thud, I grunt into his mouth.

He kisses me passionately, moving his mouth with mine, pressing his chest against mine. Moaning, he shifts his hands to my back, sliding them down… around… everywhere. As we continue kissing, his hands skim across my ass… up my sides to rest under my arms… back down to span the sides of my hips… up to thread through my hair.

I can't breathe after a few minutes and wrench my lips away, gasping loudly and letting my head fall back against the smooth wood behind me. His heart is thumping wildly under my hand; his hot, panting breaths beat against my neck as he trails his mouth down toward my shoulder.

"Fuck. I want you," he murmurs. He pulls the fabric of my dress away from my collar bone and latches on to my skin, sucking powerfully.

"Oh… God… Edward," I groan, digging one hand into his hair to hold him in place. He pulls rhythmically on my skin, pausing to soothe with his tongue several times.

When I whimper, he stops, kissing his way up my neck again. Desperate for more, I wrap my arms around his waist, and then slide my hands into the back pockets of his jeans, pressing his hips to mine.

"Please," I whisper, and am instantly rewarded when he rocks against me. He glides his lips along my jaw as we move together, slowly at first, and then faster. "Edward… God." My words are muffled when he kisses me.

"Fuck!" he exclaims quietly, pulling his lower body away. He rests his forehead against the door near my shoulder. "I can't… fuck… I shouldn't do that to you."

Still breathing hard, I take my hands out of his pockets and let them fall to my sides. We stand in silence for a minute before he rears back to look at me, lifting one hand to cup the side of my face, tracing his thumb along my bottom lip gently.

"I'm sorry," he says lowly.

"For what?" I ask, fighting back tears.

"Treating someone like you that way," he says. His eyes are still glazed with lust and alcohol as he looks into mine. I'm sure he doesn't realize that he hurt my feelings… that what he just said – implying that he could only have sex in such an impassioned frenzy with someone not like _me_ – both offends me and pisses me off. And my head still hurts.

Through my haze of pain and anger, I hear the countdown to midnight on the other side of the door, followed by yells of "Happy New Year".

Smiling, he leans forward to peck my lips. "It's the new year," he says needlessly.

I roll my eyes, but kiss him back… even though it's not really the kiss I was anticipating getting from him at midnight.

"Let's go back out and sit with your friends for a while," he suggests. "I'm done working."

"Okay," I agree, trying not to let my face show how upset I am.

At the table, I continue to drink soda while Edward goes back to whiskey. Although I'm glad that he seems to be enjoying himself with Jake and Jasper, I'm annoyed that he's not paying much attention to me. Alice says it's the alcohol – and when I think about it, I've never been around Edward when he's been drinking like this.

I follow him when he goes to the bathroom later – he's a little unsteady on his feet. When he comes out, he looks happy to see me in the hallway.

"Ballerina," he smiles, wrapping his arms around me. He holds me too tightly, and then loses his balance, almost knocking both of us down.

"Edward, I think we should go," I say as I get loose and take a step back.

"You gonna take me home in your truck?" he slurs.

"I didn't bring my truck. Remember? I rode with Jasper and Alice," I remind him. He nods and I lead him back out to the bar. "Stand right here. I'll get my purse." He nods again.

At the table, I hug everyone goodbye and get my coat and purse, then make my way back toward Edward. But he's not where I left him. Half exasperated, half amused, I keep walking… looking.

"Oh, for the love of God," I mutter when I finally find him leaning against the wall beside the door… hugging the same short-dress-wearing blonde. Newly irritated, I push my way through the now-smaller crowd, but the blonde has moved on by the time I get to Edward. "Where's your coat?"

"Car," he answers.

He gives me the keys when I ask for them and follows me outside. Once I get him settled in the passenger seat, I get behind the wheel and buckle up. The engine rumbles to life when I turn the key, making the pedals hum under my feet.

When I twist around to look behind the car as I back out, I see that Edward's eyes are closed and he's leaning his head back against the seat.

"My baby is driving my baby," he mumbles, smiling slightly. It would be cute if I wasn't annoyed; but I am, so I roll my eyes and remain quiet.

After that, he doesn't speak, and I turn the radio volume down since it looks like he's sleeping. As I pull into the garage entrance of his building, I reach up to get the key card from the passenger visor. He shifts around and opens his eyes.

"You remember how to do it, baby?" he asks groggily as I roll down the window and insert the card. "Don't hold it too tight… just slide it right in." Again, I'd probably laugh if I wasn't grouchy.

I shake my head and ignore the comment, and then drive inside once the barrier gate lifts. The harsh fluorescent lights shine through the windshield as I turn down the first aisle and drive toward Edward's three reserved parking spots against the far wall. Since my truck isn't here, they're all vacant.

"You're not speaking to me?" he asks as I park in the middle space. From the corner of my eye, I see him lift his head and look at me. When I don't answer, he continues talking, his words still slightly slurred. "Guess not. Jesus Christ. You're still pissed about James?"

As soon as I set the brake, I unfasten my seatbelt and let it automatically retract, turning to face him as the buckle bangs against the window. He cringes – either at the sound or, more likely, at the fear that I hurt his car.

"No. I'm mad that you have a double-standard. You were so bugged by James talking to me that you threw him out of the bar, but you were hanging out with that blonde all night," I spit.

"I can't stand James in general. I'd have thrown him out earlier if I'd seen him," he says. His voice is controlled, but I hear the anger simmering underneath. "What fucking blonde are you talking about?"

"How many were there?" I fire back, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the window. "I'm talking about the one with the big boobs and short dress that you were all over every time I turned around."

"I wasn't all over anyone," he claims, raising his voice. He exhales loudly and slumps back in his seat, pressing the heels of his hands to his bloodshot eyes. "If you mean Heidi, she dates the singer in the band. I've known them both since college, and she didn't know anybody else there tonight."

"Well, you didn't tell me that," I declare, still defiant even though it seems a little unfounded right now.

"Is that something you think you should have known? You think I should have told you?" he fumes, lowering his hands and leaning across the console. "Now you know how it feels. I fucking hate that you don't tell me anything."

Feeling defensive even though I know he's right, I go on the attack, too.

"I hate that you pull away from me when – when – the way you did in your office tonight," I sputter, fury rising again when embarrassed tears fill my eyes. "You always slow it down and act like I'm breakable or something."

"No, I act like you're important to me. I don't want to treat you like…"

"Like you treated them? The other girls?" I ask as I lean toward him. "Why don't you want me that way?"

"I fucking do!" he yells, reaching for me. He digs his fingers into my hair, sliding them to the back of my head and pulling me forward. I go willingly, crashing my mouth to his, pushing my tongue inside and moving my lips frantically.

I don't know how long we kiss this way, breathing heavily as we come together, break apart, then come together again. He drops his hand from my hair, gliding it down my neck, stopping to rub his thumb lightly over the sensitive spot under my ear. When he finally lowers his hand to my chest, I moan and reach for his forearm, digging my nails into his shirt as he grips my breast tightly.

He doesn't linger there long though. We continue to kiss as he presses me back into my seat and skims his hand down the front of my body, all the way to my knees. As soon as he slips his hand under my skirt, I shift my legs farther apart, moaning into his mouth while he drags his fingers up the inside of my right thigh.

In answer, he grunts as he reaches between my legs, stroking back and forth smoothly over my satin underwear. I clutch his shoulders as he moves faster, driving me closer to the edge… but then he stops.

I pull my mouth away and open my eyes to find him staring at me as he works his fingers under the fabric. Gasping, I lift my hips as he pushes into me, barely giving my body time to adjust before he adds another finger, sliding them deliberately in... out. I raise one hand to grip his hair and yank his mouth to mine, resting my open lips against his. He pants into my mouth as I buck against his hand, whimpering when he presses into me and holds still.

"I want in there," he says hoarsely, pulling his fingers out of me and hooking them in the front of my underwear. He tugs on them roughly. "Get these off and get over here."

As he sits back and reclines his seat, I slide my panties down my legs and then carefully over my boots. When I turn to look at him, he's pushed his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs and is lying back, stroking himself. My lips fall open as I watch him – and for the first time, I want to put my mouth on him. He groans quietly as I lick my lips.

"Baby, you have no idea how much I'd like that," he growls, seemingly knowing what I'm thinking. "But I'll never last that way right now. Come here."

Gingerly, I climb over the console, steadying myself with one hand on Edward's shoulder and the other pressed against the window as I straddle him. He pulls at the skirt of my dress, sliding his hands inside and up to grasp my breasts. Arching into his touch, I let my eyes slide closed as he pushes my bra out of the way and captures my bare nipples with his fingers.

After a moment, he sits up and I wrap my arms around his shoulders as we kiss breathlessly. He leans back slightly to look into my eyes.

"I'm still pissed at you," he says.

"I'm still pissed at you, too," I retort – even though I can't remember right now what I was so angry about.

"Fine," he responds as he lies back against the seat. "Lift up."

As I raise onto my knees, he pushes his shirt up, and then aligns himself with me. He closes his eyes as I sink down onto him, shifting his hands to the sides of my hips.

"Oh, God," I whisper, bracing my hand against the window again as he moves me, pushing me up and then pulling me forcefully back down as he thrusts into me. There's no slow, gentle build this time. It's fast. Raw. Uncontrolled.

It's exactly what I want.

Letting my eyes slide shut, I listen to the sounds our bodies make as we meet… I concentrate on the feeling of him sliding into me.

"Jesus… fuck," he groans, his fingers digging into my skin. "Are you close?"

"No," I whisper, opening my eyes.

"Fuck," he repeats, louder this time, as he pulls me down and holds still. "Lean forward."

"Okay," I breathe, resting my palms on the seat just above his shoulders. In this position, our faces are almost touching and looking into his eyes is so intense that I want to shut mine again. But I don't. I force myself to look, to feel – even though I'm afraid he doesn't feel the same.

He nudges me with his hands, urging me to move, so I rock against him twice, gasping with pleasure as I get the friction I need. He holds my hips tightly as he guides me again, moving me slowly at first, until I moan and go faster on my own.

I stay quiet as I come, letting my eyes close and my mouth drop open.

"Jesus," he groans, and I feel him twitch inside me as he comes, too.

Once my breathing slows, I press my lips briefly to his and then scoot off him, awkwardly pushing myself back to the driver's side. Edward's eyes are shut and he hasn't moved for a minute. I'm afraid he's going to pass out down here, so I say his name loudly and talk him into pulling up his pants. I grab my purse and our coats from the backseat as I get out and lead him to the elevator.

Neither of us speaks on the elevator, or in the hallway, or when we get inside the condo. I let him use the bathroom first to clean up while I get him a bottle of water and some ibuprofen. After I get him to take the pills, I tuck him in, and then go to clean myself up. He's lying on his back and snoring lightly when I come out. I turn out the lamp and get in bed, rolling to face him and resting my lips against his bare upper arm.

"My ballerina," he mumbles. "M'ere."

"I'm right here," I whisper, but I push myself up as he wraps his arm around me. I lie back down with my head on his shoulder.

"Don't leave me. Don't… leave," he mutters, his voice growing softer with each word.

"Okay."

"I love you," he breathes.

Inhaling sharply, I raise up again to look at him, but he seems to have gone back to sleep. Smiling widely for the first time in several hours, I stretch up to place my lips on his.

"I love you, too."

* * *

When I wake up in the morning, I'm not burrowed down in the covers like usual. Instead, the sheets are bunched at the foot of the bed and I'm covered by a heavy arm and leg. Edward is lying on his stomach, draped across me.

And he loves me.

Smiling, I trail my fingers lightly up his arm, but he doesn't move. He's really out. And he still smells like whiskey.

Knowing he probably won't feel good when he wakes up, I decide to go make breakfast for him. He barely moves as I scoot out of bed. I pull the sheet and comforter up, tucking it gently around him, and then bending down to kiss his shoulder.

In the bathroom, I brush my teeth and pull my hair up into a ponytail, then pull my t-shirt aside to study the hickey Edward left on my collarbone last night when we were in his office. It's purple and ugly, but I giggle lightly when I look into the mirror. There are parts of last night that didn't go as well as I expected, but other parts – his office, the car, his declaration in bed – that were so good they almost don't seem real.

I'm happy as I pad softly up the hallway to the kitchen. I make coffee first and sip it while I start to lay the bacon in a pan.

"Ballerina," Edward calls. I answer and then turn to see him standing in the doorway, looking panicked.

I wipe my hands on a paper towel as he comes toward me. As soon as he's close enough, he wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my neck, breathing hard.

"Edward, what's wrong?"

"I thought you fucking left," he says, gripping me tightly.

"Why would I leave?"

"Jesus, baby, after the way I attacked you last night in my office – and then," he pauses to swallow, "the car, why wouldn't you? I'm so fucking sorry I acted like that with you."

"But it's –," I begin, but he interrupts me.

"Don't you dare defend me," he says, rearing back to look at me. "I never should have treated you that way. Shit, don't cry."

He kisses across my forehead to my left temple as I blink back tears.

"I'm not, Edward," I insist. "I wasn't upset by it. I've never felt so –."

"Did I do something else after we got up here?" he asks, cutting me off again. "I don't remember anything after… you know, in the car."

The euphoria I've been floating on since I woke up rushes out of me, replaced with disappointment… despair. New tears flood my eyes and threaten to spill over, so I bury my face in his chest, hoping he won't notice.

"No," I croak, then clear my throat to disguise the fact that I'm upset. "You were fine."

"Okay, good," he says, exhaling heavily. "I'm sorry about the fight, too."

I nod. "So am I. I should have told you about Aro."

"We both should have done things differently," he says, pulling away to look at me. He wipes away the tears that leaked from my eyes and smiles at me. "Don't cry. We'll do better."

"I know," I answer. I try to return his smile, but can't get my lips to move upward. Wanting time to regroup, I suggest that he go shower while I finish cooking breakfast.

"Yeah, I feel like shit. I'm sure I smell like a distillery, too," he chuckles. "Let's just forget everything that happened last night, okay?"

He bends down to press his lips gently to mine, and then releases me to walk out of the kitchen. I turn back to the stove, letting the tears come this time.

"Hey, ballerina," he calls softly from the doorway. "Happy New Year."

"Mmhmm," I say, struggling to speak without breaking down. "Happy New Year."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: It's a long one, so I'll make it quick up here. I really appreciate how understanding everyone's been with my updating non-schedule lately. The last ten weeks have been crazy - my mom moved from our family home to a smaller place. We spent almost every night of the last eight weeks going through her house and pricing things she was ready to let go of for a sale. And I got a promotion at work that came with a steep learning curve, so I spent quite a bit of time reading two textbooks on a subject that I hadn't paid much attention to since college.  
**

**But the sale is over and the job has started. The craziness is slowly subsiding and my writing time is getting back to normal.  
**

**I'm incredibly lucky to have a fantastic beta and friend, Windgirl810, to help me, to ask questions, to point out things I miss. Thanks!  
**

**My two very good friends preread this chapter for me: Michelle0526 and Littlecat358. Thank you both for all your help!  
**

**All mistakes are mine.  
**

**Thanks for reading and please review!  
**

* * *

**EPOV**

Leaning forward under the stream of hot water, I raise one hand to rake through my wet hair. I feel like shit.

"Fucking whiskey," I mutter.

I don't know how much I drank last night. Enough to calm me down after I got fucking furious at Tanya for being such a bitch to the new staff. Enough to keep me from pounding James for putting his hands on my girl. Enough to numb me after I found out my girl hasn't been telling me shit.

"Fucking Aro," I say, louder.

I never intended to fight with Bella last night. Knowing she was pretty tipsy, I tried not to react when she was bitching at me in my office. But I was pissed that she'd been lying about Aro, and eventually I couldn't hold it in anymore. I figured she would have a reason for not telling me, and she did. A fucked up reason, if you ask me, but I sort of understand why she felt like she couldn't talk to me about it.

I know I fucked up, too, though. My memory of the ride home last night is hazy; I remember parts of the argument in the parking garage. And I've had enough flashbacks of the sex – of gripping her tightly and moving her roughly – to know I wasn't gentle with her.

And, of course, thinking about it now has my dick twitching. Christ. Pissed off, hung way-the-fuck over, and horny.

"Fucking asshole," I mumble, sighing disgustedly at myself. Turning to the side, I lean back against the cool, tile wall. I close my eyes and try to remember what the hell happened after the sex, but no matter how hard I concentrate, my mind only repeats the shit I already know. Fighting. Sex. Waking up alone in my bed. That's all I got.

The stench of stale alcohol fills the steamy shower, coming out my pores even after I try to wash it away. Nauseated by the smell, I adjust the temperature dial until the water is cool, but it doesn't really help. I need to fucking lie down.

My legs are shaky as I wrap a towel around my waist and walk out to the bedroom. Bella's side of the bed is closer and I flop facedown on her pillow, inhaling her scent. Jesus, this feels better. If I could just stay here for a few minutes, then I think I could get up.

I don't move until I feel the cool sheet cover my back.

"Ballerina?" I mumble, turning my head. I crack one eye open to look at her, but it slides closed again almost immediately.

"Shhh. Sleep, Edward," she whispers. Her fingers brush lightly across my shoulder as I drift back to sleep.

* * *

A couple of hours later, I wake up feeling like I might fucking live after all. I get dressed and brush my teeth, wondering what the hell I should say to Bella. Stalling, I hold my hands under the faucet and then run them through the top of my hair, pulling at it until I'm satisfied with the way it looks.

Finally, I leave the bedroom and walk slowly up the hallway, both relieved and nervous when I see her sitting on the couch. Even though she's not facing me, I know she hears my bare feet on the hardwood floor.

"Feeling better?" she asks, twisting around to look at me.

"Yeah," I answer with a half-smile.

"There's a plate in the oven for you. And the coffee's still hot," she says, turning away from me again. "Want me to get it for you?"

"No, I'll do it," I reply. I mumble something about being back in a minute and go into the kitchen. Suddenly realizing how hungry I am, I stand at the counter and eat the eggs quickly, and then pour myself coffee. I grab a strip of bacon as I head back out to the living room.

She looks up as I sit down on the other end of the couch and we both turn sideways to face each other.

"Thanks for breakfast," I begin, unsure where this conversation is going to go. I swallow a big drink of coffee, then lean over to set my mug on the table.

"You're welcome."

"And for letting me sleep."

"You needed it," she nods.

Jesus. The last time we faced each other this uncomfortably on the couch was last fall – when she was the one with the hangover. But the rest of the details are eerily similar – sitting on opposite ends of the couch, Bella is covered with the white fur blanket, and I have no fucking idea what to say.

Reaching up, I scrub my hands across my face and blow out a breath.

"Ballerina, I really am so fucking sor–."

"Please don't apologize again," she whispers, interrupting me. "I get it. You regret everything that happened last night."

Lowering my hands slowly, I look at her. Her head is bowed, her eyes downcast as she picks at the blanket.

"I regret that I hurt you," I answer.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, too," she replies flatly, shrugging.

Worried by the distant tone of her voice, I study her. I don't think she's crying… but she won't look at me. Jesus, I wish I had taken some medicine before I left the kitchen because my fucking head is pounding. I press the heels of my palms just above my eyes to relieve the pressure, letting my head hang back for a minute.

Fuck. I don't know how to fix this. When I lift my head, she hasn't moved. Leaning forward, I put one hand on her leg.

"Bella," I say softly. She doesn't answer, but she doesn't pull away either. Sliding my fingers over her covered knee, I squeeze gently. "Baby, please talk to me."

She raises her eyes, looking up at me from under her brow.

"I don't know what to say to you," she mumbles, her voice quivering slightly.

"Come here… _please_," I say, holding my hand toward her.

As soon as she reaches forward, I close my fingers around hers and tug gently. She lowers her eyes again, but she comes willingly, and I use my other hand to help untangle the blanket around her. As I lie back, I spread my legs apart to make room for her in between. She settles against my chest, and I cover her up again before I wrap my arms around her.

"I don't want to think about last night anymore," she whispers.

"Okay," I answer, kissing the top of her head. I know we need to talk about some of this shit, but I don't want to make anything worse right now. We sit in silence again for a few minutes. It's not unusual for us to lie together like this when we watch TV… it _is_ unusual for her to keep her hands on the couch instead of on me. And she's never this quiet unless she's fallen asleep on top of me. "What should we do today?"

"I need to go home," she answers. "I have laundry and stuff."

"Uh, okay. I'll drive you whenever you want," I reply, nervous again because she sounds like she wants to get away from me. "I could hang your sculpture for you today."

"If you want to," she says. She pushes herself up and climbs off the couch… off me. "I'll get dressed."

"Ballerina," I plead softly as she turns to walk away.

"I'll be ready in five," she answers without looking back at me.

* * *

She's quiet during the drive to her place. She's quiet as I hang the sculpture. She's quiet as I rifle through her freezer looking for something to eat. Finally, she says she's going to take a shower.

While the crappy frozen pizza is cooking, I walk to her stereo and turn it on, scrolling through the playlists on the attached iPod. When I see the hip hop list, I push play, and suffer through three terrible songs before Bella comes out from the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Fixing lunch," I answer, turning away from the counter where I'm cutting the pizza to look at her.

"I meant the music," she responds, frowning at me. "You don't like hip hop."

"Not really, no." I shrug, turning back to the food. "But you do."

She gets plates from the cabinet, and then comes to stand next to me.

"Someday I'll find a way to make you like it," she insists, reaching in front of me to pick a mushroom from the pizza. She smiles slightly at me as she puts it in her mouth.

I don't fucking think so, but since that's the most regular-sounding sentence she's spoken to me all day, I'm not gonna fucking argue about it. Instead, I smile back at her and lean down, pressing my lips softly against hers.

We spend the rest of the day together at her place, but things are still weird. We're overly polite to each other. Our conversations are superficial and strained. The only things that amuse her at all are my hangover and the way I smell.

I shower again before bed, hoping to wash off the lingering stink. When I walk into her bedroom in just my boxer briefs, she's already lying down, facing away from me. I know she's tired and she has to work tomorrow, but I doubt she's asleep yet. Pulling the covers back carefully, I get in bed and roll toward her, curling myself up behind her.

"Ballerina," I say against her shoulder as I wrap my arm around her waist. I'm not even sure what I want to say to her.

"Yeah?" Her voice is hushed. I press my lips to her skin and clear my throat softly, hesitating… stalling… trying to figure out something to say besides "I'm sorry". As the silent seconds tick by, I hear her sigh heavily. Then she cuts off any further conversation. "Goodnight, Edward."

She burrows down into the bed, pulling her pillow with her. I keep my hand on her, but I don't follow her down like usual, unsure if she wants me to.

"Night."

* * *

Saturday night, I sit on a stool at the Full Moon, nursing my beer and watching Emmett and Ben tend bar. I've been wasting time over here while Bella's next door working on dances for her classes. I was planning to take her out tonight, but she insisted that she'd had these plans with Alice for weeks. So I offered to drive her here and leave her alone for three hours. In return, she agreed to leave at nine – which is ten minutes from now.

Blowing out a breath, I drag my hand through the top of my hair twice, and then drain my beer.

"You want another, E?" Em asks as he trashes the empty bottle behind the bar. After I shake my head, he props his elbows on the bar and studies me. "You're quiet tonight. What's the matter? Trouble with Tiny?"

I shrug sullenly. I try to ignore his eagle-eyed stare, but after a few seconds, I crack. "Yeah, I guess. She's acting weird. Blowing me off the last couple of nights."

"You were working the last two nights."

"No shit, dickhead," I sneer, shaking my head at him. "But _she_ wasn't. I thought she'd hang here with me since the studio is still closed for Christmas break, but she went home early both nights instead."

He's frowning at me like he thinks I'm fucking crazy. Maybe it sounds that way, but I feel it: She's pulling away from me.

"You do something to piss her off?"

Yes, I did. But I'm sure as shit not telling him the intimate details from New Year's Eve. I shrug one shoulder and drop my eyes to the bar top.

"That bad, huh?" he asks, apparently reading the look on my face. "Well, grovel. Tell her you're sorry."

"I have. She told me to stop apologizing," I grumble as I raise my eyes to his again.

That makes him laugh – loudly. Irritated, I stand up and grab my leather jacket from the stool beside me.

"I'm gonna go see if she's ready to leave."

"Okay. See you, E," he says as I turn away. "Don't worry about Tiny. She'll get over whatever asshole thing you did." I wave over my shoulder as I walk toward the door.

When I get outside, I see Alice's car still parked beside the studio door. Sighing, I walk to the side of my building and pull a cigarette from the pack in my jacket. Once it's lit, I inhale deeply and lean back against the brick wall, staring at the windows next door.

The lights aren't on in the room that faces the parking lot – they haven't been any of the times I've checked tonight. The girls must be in the other dance room, which kind of surprises me. Bella has told me before that she feels claustrophobic in the smaller, windowless studio. She prefers the one I'm looking at; the same place where I first watched her dance last fall. As I take another drag, I remember standing in this exact spot, smoking, watching her. I didn't know her then, but I wanted to.

Now I do know her, which is why I'm so fucking worried about the way she's been acting the last few days. She's definitely not herself when we're together. She doesn't smile, doesn't joke around, doesn't look at me the way she usually does.

Letting my head fall back against the wall, I exhale and close my eyes. Fuck. It feels like it's all slipping away from me, and I don't know how to stop it. This, _this_ fucking feeling is why I swore off dating for so long.

When I hear the squeak of the studio's side door, I open my eyes and see Alice coming outside. After one last inhale, I push myself off the wall and drop my cigarette, stepping on it as I walk across the parking lot. I watch as she shuts the door and starts to lock it.

"Hey, Alice," I say when I'm close enough. "Is Bella done?"

"Oh, hi, Edward," she says, turning to look at me. "Um, no, but you can go on in." She pulls the door open and holds it for me.

"Thanks," I mumble as I walk inside. "See you later."

"Have a nice night," she says with a giggle. I don't know her well enough to know if she's serious or if she's laughing because Bella's planning to dump me as soon as she sees me.

Before I can turn around to look at her, she shuts and locks the door. The hallway and Bella's office are both dark. I hear music and walk toward the sound, knowing that what I thought was right; she's in the other studio.

Standing in the doorway at the back of the room, I lean one shoulder against the frame to watch her as she turns in the middle of the floor; the overhead lights aren't on, so the only light in the room is coming from the white Christmas lights still strung across the ceiling. She doesn't stop, but I see her eyes land on me in the mirror each time she faces the front. Spotting. That's what she calls it. Looking at the same thing on each revolution – she taught me that word, too – so she doesn't get dizzy.

"Hi," she says quietly.

"Hey, ballerina."

"How are you?" she asks. For the first fucking time since Wednesday, her voice sounds normal. She stops turning, but continues dancing. She rarely does this shit in front of me.

"I'm good, baby," I answer, watching her legs as she lifts up on the balls of both feet. Under the really short dress thing she's wearing, I can see those tight, black shorts that used to fucking kill me when I saw her running around in them. Well, they still fucking kill me, but it's a little easier to take now that I get to see her naked at home. "You look fucking great."

She chuckles quietly, huskily. I raise my gaze to meet hers in the mirror and we smile at each other. I hope this means we're getting past all the shit that happened earlier this week.

"Thank you," she finally says. "Want to come in?"

"Really? You never let me watch," I ask, raising my eyebrows slightly.

"I won't let you watch me _teach_," she corrects as I walk inside. I skirt around her to move to the front of the room. "You can't be in here with a bunch of little girls. Or older girls."

"I would only watch you. No matter who else was in here," I say lowly, pausing to look at her as I grab the back of the wooden chair near the corner. I keep my eyes on her as I drag it to the middle of the front wall and push it up against the mirror. "Can I sit here?"

"Sure," she answers, smiling at me as I drop into the chair. I slump backward, crossing my right ankle across my left knee. "Recognize the song?"

"Yeah," I respond, listening for the first time. It's _While My Guitar Gently Weeps_, but it's a female singer, not the Beatles. "Who is this?"

"Santana," she answers, as she slides her foot on the floor in front of her and then lifts it up behind her as she turns. "India. Arie. Remember the Halloween party?"

"We danced to this song," I answer quietly, totally captivated by her.

"You remember," she says, sounding happy about that as she lifts up on one foot and raises her other leg straight up in front of her. She holds it there for a second, and then bends her knee and lowers it before immediately doing it again, lifting her leg to the side this time. It's fucking hot. "Everything okay next door?"

My throat feels tight and I clear it twice before I try to talk. "Uh, yeah," I answer, squirming around a little. "I was just coming to see if you were ready to go."

"Not quite," she answers, starting to turn again. "I need to work on another dance a little bit. I would say that you could stay, but it's a hip hop song. And you don't like hip hop."

"I'll stay," I volunteer quickly, smiling when I hear her laugh. "I like watching you."

"Okay. I'd like to hear what you think of it, actually," she says. "It's right after this song."

Now she's moving across the floor as she turns, and she suddenly jumps up in the air.

"You're fucking good at those jumps, ballerina," I say.

She stops and smiles widely at me, her large, brown eyes shining. She hasn't smiled at me like this for days, and I feel my abs contract involuntarily as my heart picks up speed.

"They're called leaps," she reminds me.

"Right. You're a fucking good leaper then," I insist. She does several more, arching her back and neck. Since she's finally fucking talking normally to me, I try to keep it going. "You like this kind of dancing the best?"

"Hmm, not necessarily," she says thoughtfully, turning her way across the floor until she's in front of me again. "For me, it's about desire. How I'm feeling in the moment. What I want. Sometimes I prefer ballet – controlled movements, carefully choreographed. Beautiful. Other times it's jazz – fast and fun. Or lyrical. Letting my body really be moved by the music is so freeing. It's expressive, passionate. And hip hop is newer for me, but I love the way it can be street… or sensual… or both. Somehow even when it's rough, it's still full of emotion."

Jesus, it's a good thing she's still busy dancing instead of looking at me because my fucking mouth is hanging wide open. I guess not getting any for three nights has put my libido on high alert. I know that she's talking about dance, but my brain – and my dick – heard nothing but sex in that speech.

"Sometimes I'm just in the mood for something different. You know what I mean?" she asks. I close my mouth and swallow, but don't answer. She pauses to glance at me. "Edward?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," I agree, shifting around in the chair. "I know what you mean."

The song ends while I'm speaking, and she smiles softly before turning her back to me. Christ, it's fucking hot in here. My forehead is starting to sweat. Keeping my eyes on her, I lean forward and take off my jacket. As I sit back, I watch her pull the elastic band from her ponytail, shaking her head slightly as her hair falls down her back.

I don't recognize the hip hop song when it starts. She barely moves at first, only shrugging her shoulders with the music. As the bass kicks in, she swings her hips back and forth and lowers her ass toward the floor. When she's pretty low, she holds herself there, putting her palms on the ground. She slowly straightens her legs, and then skims her hands up the back of them as she stands, flipping her hair when she's almost upright.

When she turns around, she moves quickly across the floor. For a minute, it looks exactly the same as when I used to watch her with Seth – until she reaches for the bottom of that short dress thing she's wearing and pulls it off, tossing it to the floor beside her. Underneath, she's only wearing a black, lacy bra and those little fucking shorts.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to catch my breath… which isn't fucking easy because the way she's arching her back is making her tits look even better than usual. She spins to face away from me and takes several steps, stopping to shift her weight side to side. Then she circles her hips slowly… twice.

Jesus, what the fuck is she doing? She's thinking of this dance for one of her classes?

Facing me again, she moves forward. I sit up, tipping my head back to look at her face as she stands in front of me.

"Baby, exactly who is this dance for?"

"You," she whispers, breathing hard as she traces the fingers of one hand along my jaw. "What do you think?"

"I think I'm fucking starting to like hip hop," I answer, reaching for her hips. Smiling, she twists away, out of my grasp.

"I'm not finished," she says as she backs up. "I need to tell you something."

"Okay," I answer, watching as she dances across the floor and stops at the side of the support post in the room.

"I've been upset with you the last couple of days," she says as she swings herself around the pole.

"I know," I reply, trying like hell to pay more attention to what she's saying than what she's doing. But it's fucking hard.

"What happened Tuesday night in the car," she begins, standing in front of the pole now to face me.

"Won't happen again," I interject firmly, looking into her eyes.

"That's too bad," she responds lowly, sliding her back down the pole. As she stands up, my eyes drop to her legs, staring – barely breathing – as she glides her hands up her inner thighs. "Because I liked it."

Stunned, I snap my gaze up to meet hers. "Huh?"

"I _liked_ it, Edward," she says, walking toward me.

"I thought you were pissed because I was… I wasn't… gentle," I reply.

"No." She shakes her head slowly, bending down to put her palms on my thighs so her face is right in front of mine. "You said you wanted to forget it. But you never asked how _I_ felt about it."

I lean forward to kiss her, but she stands and backs away once more.

"Baby, sex with you is always great," I respond hoarsely, watching her as she turns and shakes her ass at me.

"Then we agree on that," she says, smiling when she faces me again. She's standing about a foot in front of me and I want to fucking touch her, but I can tell she's not done talking. "And the way you're so careful with me, Edward… you make me feel safe enough to tell you that right now, I'm in the mood for something different." She keeps her eyes glued to mine as she steps forward and drops to her knees in between my legs. "Okay?"

Nodding, I swallow loudly, then suck in a breath when she lifts my shirt up part way and leans forward to kiss my stomach. Hoping I'm right about where this is headed, I reach one hand behind my neck and yank my shirt up and over my head, digging my other hand into Bella's hair as her lips move across my abs, and then lower.

She sits back on her heels to pull off my shoes and socks, and then pushes them aside. When she raises up, she spreads her hands across my chest, trailing them lightly down my skin as she bends forward again.

"Fuck, ballerina," I exhale, letting my head fall back against the mirror while she torments me with her lips and tongue. She looks up at me as she unbuttons and then slowly unzips my jeans. Groaning quietly, I push my jeans and boxers down to my knees, and then she pulls them completely off, looking down at the floor as she shoves them away.

"I like your feet," she whispers, tracing her fingers along the tops of them… ignoring the fact that my dick is sticking straight up right in front of her. She's nervous, I think.

"Bella, you don't have to –."

"I want to," she insists, raising her eyes to mine. "I'm just not sure how… to make it feel good for you."

"Ballerina, I can fucking guarantee it's gonna feel good for me," I answer, then jerk my right foot away from her hand when she tickles the arch. She smiles at me, and then finally puts her mouth on me. "Fuck."

I close my eyes at first, but after a minute, I want to watch. Looking down, I slide my hands into her hair, pushing it back, groaning when I see her fucking perfect mouth wrapped around me. She keeps going, but when I feel myself getting too close, I stop her.

"Baby, wait," I say, holding her still. As she pulls away, she tilts her head up, frowning. "Jesus, Bella. I want you. Come here."

I stand up, pulling her up, too, and then crash my mouth to hers. Immediately, I wrap my arms around her back, unhooking her bra and pulling it down her arms. Before it's fallen to the floor, I cup her breasts, rubbing my thumbs across her nipples until she whimpers. I kiss down her neck to her chest, closing my lips around one breast and sucking strongly.

"Oh, God, Edward," she whispers, digging her nails into the skin of my shoulders. "Please. Please."

Moving quickly, I straighten up and turn us, turning her again so that she's standing in front of me. She's facing the mirror, her knees against the seat of the chair, with my hands resting on her shoulders.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," I say, bending down to speak in her ear, but watching her in the mirror. Grazing my fingers down her arms, I grab her hands and bend us forward, placing her hands on the back of the chair, and then kissing her shoulder before I stand up.

Reaching for the waistband of her shorts, I slide them down her legs and press her feet apart after she steps out of them. I know she's wet and I can't fucking wait any longer, so I hold her hip with one hand and my dick with the other and push my way inside. Trying to give her time to adjust, I thrust slowly and shallowly a few times, watching her back heave with her breaths.

When I feel her relax, I pull almost all the way out, then immediately bury myself again. Gasping, she reaches forward to brace one hand on the mirror as I press her forward. Hanging on to her waist, I drive into her over and over, listening to her sounds… our sounds.

"I need to see your face, ballerina," I beg, waiting until she arches her neck to look at me in the mirror before I continue. Her eyes are darker, her lids heavy. She rolls her lips together and moans quietly as I slide in again. "You feel so fucking good."

"You do, too," she breathes, pushing back against me. Realizing she's close, I reach between her legs to circle her clit. I keep my eyes fixed on hers until she comes, crying out and clenching the hand on the mirror into a fist. When I feel her legs trembling, I lift her to kneel on the edge of the chair. After only a few more thrusts, I come, holding myself all the way inside her and leaning over to wrap my arms around her tightly.

As we catch our breath, Bella reaches one hand down to grip my forearm as I press my lips all along her upper back. Finally, I pull out of her and move us so that I'm sitting on the chair and she's sideways on my lap, resting her head against my shoulder.

"I'm going to make a mess on you," she murmurs against my neck.

"I don't fucking care. We'll shower when we get home," I reply, stroking my knuckles along her arm. "We're gonna have to clean this room tomorrow."

I feel her shake with silent laughter. "I may not be able to teach in here anymore. I'll just think of you… of this."

"I definitely won't be able to come in here without getting a fucking hard-on," I say, smiling when she giggles. "When did you learn to pole dance?"

She sits up to look at me, blushing slightly as she tells the story of the night the girls went to a strip club. "I didn't even show you everything I learned," she smirks when she's finished.

"Christ, Bella. You're always trying to fucking kill me, aren't you?" I groan, leaning my head against the mirror. "You set me up for this tonight, huh?"

"Alice and I really were working earlier, but, yeah, I had a plan for you," she admits quietly.

"A trap," I tease, tightening my arms around her. "And I walked right into it."

"Are you mad?"

"Jesus, baby," I answer with a laugh. "No, I'm not mad. Let's go home. I want to roll around with you and I'm not doing it on a fucking linoleum floor."

"It's Pergo," she corrects, hugging me.

"What the fuck ever," I grumble, but I smile and squeeze her ass lightly when she rears back to look at me. "Your dance was perfect, baby. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She presses her lips against mine twice. "You're welcome."

* * *

Three and a half weeks later, I stand behind the bar and fill two pitchers for one of Tanya's tables. It's fucking loud and crowded in here for a Wednesday happy hour – not that I'm complaining – but as I look around, I'm not really thinking about tonight.

I glance toward the stairs to the second floor, still roped off with yellow caution tape. Earlier today, Rose pronounced the upstairs almost ready for the grand opening this Saturday, but I keep mentally going over the details. The bar is stocked with liquor. The tables and chairs are arranged. The dart board machines and pool table are set up. All that's left is the glassware delivery, which is tomorrow morning, and tapping the upstairs kegs.

Noticing that the beer pitchers are about to overflow, I push the taps back and pour the head off both of them. As I'm pushing them across the bar to Tanya, I hear the side door open and turn my head, surprised to see my dad coming in. He waves at me as he approaches.

"Hey, Dad," I say when he sits down in front of me. Tanya is hanging around like she expects me to include her in the fucking conversation or something, so I raise my eyebrows questioningly at her. She rolls her eyes with a huff and walks away. "What brings you all the way down here?"

"I was bored at home," he shrugs. "Your mother is still in Chicago visiting Maggie. Thought I'd come and see what you kids were up to."

"Rose and Emmett have the night off," I tell him even though I have a feeling he already knew that.

"Oh, right," he nods. "Well, what about you? Can you get away for dinner?"

"I could, but Bella and I are eating dinner later. When she's done teaching," I answer.

"Date night, huh?" he asks, smiling at me.

"Kind of. I'm cooking for her," I admit, feeling my face heat when my dad lifts his eyebrows at me. Compelled to not sound like a pussy, I talk fast, trying to explain myself. "It's about to get crazy here with the opening Saturday and the Super Bowl party Sunday. And I have poker Friday night. I'm trying to be nice since she puts up with all my shit."

"Slow down, son," he laughs. "You don't have to explain. Wanting to do things that please the woman in your life is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Jesus, Dad, can we change the fucking subject?" I ask, scrubbing my hands across my face. He laughs louder, but gives in. He spends a few minutes studying the menu, and then orders food. While he eats, we watch basketball on the TV above the bar, commenting idly on the game. After he's finished, he hangs around, apparently not in any hurry to leave… which makes me wonder what the fuck he's really doing here. He also keeps talking. We spend several minutes on topics I don't give a shit about before he finally maneuvers the conversation around to me again.

"So, is the upstairs finished? All ready for Saturday?" he asks.

"Yeah, mostly," I grin. "You want to come up?" The last time my dad was upstairs, it was only roughed-in.

"Of course," he answers, smiling back.

Turning around, I get two glasses from the shelf behind me, and then lead the way, pausing to talk to Lauren at the other end of the bar.

"I'm gonna take my dad upstairs and break in the pool table," I say. "Come get me if you need me."

As we walk up the steps, I ask about Mom's trip.

"She's fine, says Mags and the kids are fine, too," he sighs. "I'm glad she's enjoying herself, but I want her to come home."

"You miss her?" I ask, turning to look at him.

"Yes. After all these years, no matter how much I look forward to being home alone, I always end up missing her within a couple of days. What can I say?"

"That's pathetic, Dad," I laugh, even though I'm actually glad that my parents are still happy together after thirty-whatever years.

"Maybe. But it's the truth," he says as we reach the top. As soon as I flip the lights on, he looks from side to side, taking in the whole room. "Edward, this is… wow. It's beautiful. I'm impressed."

"You don't have to sound so fucking surprised about that," I mutter, slightly embarrassed by the pride in his voice. He chuckles and claps a hand on my shoulder as I turn to look at him. "You rack and I'll pour the bourbon."

"Deal."

Soon after I break the balls apart, he asks how things are with Bella.

"Good," I answer, pausing to take a drink.

That's an understatement. The last few weeks with Bella have been fucking great. She's been more open with me – she's been telling me if Aro says shit to her, and I went with her when she showed her lawyer friend the lease extension he wanted her to sign. Physically, we're closer, too. She's getting pretty good at letting me know what she wants, out of bed and in it. Last week, she even produced that pamphlet of sex positions she had last fall, and then showed me all the ones she wants to try. She's still trying to fucking kill me.

Jesus, I can't keep thinking about this right now. Clearing my throat, I look up at my dad and continue. "She'll be here Saturday night. Is Mom gonna be back?"

"Yes. We wouldn't miss it. It's a big night for you," he replies, smiling at me. He leans over the table to line up his shot, and then hits. I watch as a striped ball rolls toward the corner pocket and drops in.

"Nice shot."

"Thanks. Anything new with Aro?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah. He called me today and said he'd made a decision about selling the buildings. He's stopping by here sometime tomorrow," I say. My dad misses his next shot, so I chalk my cue stick and walk around the table. Bending over, I point to the side pocket with my stick and then hit the cue ball, knocking a solid in. "He made Bella sign a one-year extension on her lease."

"What? Why?" my dad asks, raising his voice.

"To be a dick. To try to control her… and probably me, too," I say sardonically, hitting another ball in. "But she's got some lawyer she's been talking to – Claire somebody – who thinks the best way to proceed with Aro is to play along for now. He's such a fucking asshole."

"My thoughts exactly," my dad agrees.

That makes me chuckle – and makes me miss my shot. When he doesn't ask anything else about Aro, I'm confused. We've covered most of the big subjects, but he hasn't really grilled me about anything. I have no fucking clue what information he's trying to get by coming here tonight.

Letting him steer the conversation, I listen to him talk about his work a little as we continue playing, until we're down to just one ball each and the eight ball. It's my turn, so I aim and hit, but my ball stops short of the pocket. My dad looks at me with narrowed eyes before he hits first his ball, and then the eight ball in.

"You win," I declare, replacing my cue stick in the rack on the wall.

"Liar. You _let_ me win," my dad says as he joins me.

"Well, I was a prick to you for several years," I retort. We pick up our drinks and wander over to the bar. "You deserve some sort of payback or bragging rights or whatever."

"You weren't so bad," he argues.

"Now who's lying?" I laugh. I walk behind the bar, picking up the bottle of bourbon to refill our glasses, while my dad sits down on a stool in front of me. We tap our glasses together and drink. "So, are you gonna get around to telling me what you're really doing here?"

"Am I that transparent?"

"No, Dad. I was completely fooled by the way you showed up here when Mom's out of town and Emmett and Rose aren't working. You spent almost an hour downstairs making small talk, which you don't do when you just stop by to say hi. Then you hinted around about wanting to see the second floor – where you knew we'd be alone," I say, smirking. "It doesn't take Sherlock fucking Holmes to figure out you're up to something."

"You always were intelligent. And a smartass," he says, making me laugh. He looks around the upstairs again before he continues. "I know I was hard on you when you decided this was what you wanted to do with your life. I was wrong. This fits you, and you're doing very well."

"Thanks," I nod, sipping my drink. "But that's not what you came here to say either. Go ahead and drop whatever bomb you're here to drop."

Lifting his eyebrows, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, blue, velvet box. He sets it down on the bar and slides it across to me.

"Boom," he says softly.

Our eyes meet and hold as I move the box closer to me. I'm not an idiot – I know what's usually inside a box this size. I open the lid and look down at the ring.

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" I snap the box closed and push it back toward him.

"It was your grandmother's," he says, picking up the box and opening the lid again. He sets it between us. "You were her only grandson… and she wanted you to have it."

I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat as I look down at the ring. It's a silver-colored band with a decent-sized round diamond in the center and smaller, kind of diamond-shaped stones on each side. "It's Grandma Cullen's?"

"Yes. She told me a few weeks before she died that she wanted you to have it," he says quietly.

"She's been gone four years," I frown, looking up at him again.

"She also told me not to let you have it until I was sure you wouldn't give it to the first little tramp that crossed your path," he says, smiling slightly. Yeah, that sounds like her. "Now I'm sure."

"Fuck, Dad," I say nervously, assuming he's trying to push me. "I know you and Mom got married young, but it's way too soon to think about Bella and me –."

"This isn't about Bella," he interrupts. "I'm sure you realize that Mom and I like her very much, but this is about you. You've matured quite a bit in the last two years and even more considerably in the last few months. It's time for you to have it. When and if you choose to give it to someone is purely your decision." He snaps the lid closed and hands the box to me.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," he answers, smiling at me as I put it in my front pocket. "Let's finish up. I know you have to get going… for your big date." He laughs as I glare at him.

"Jesus. I wouldn't have let you win at pool if I'd known you were gonna give me shit about Bella," I complain.

"I haven't been able to tease you about a woman for a long time. It's hard to resist," he says. But he stops laughing and raises his glass. "To Grandma."

Nodding, I lift my glass to his, and then we both knock back our drinks. When we get downstairs a few minutes later, he goes home and I head to my office, closing the door behind me. I lean back against it and pull the velvet box from my pocket, swallowing loudly as I stare down at my hand. It means a lot to me that my grandma wanted me to have her ring, but that's not the shit running through my head right now.

"Fucking hell," I mutter, shutting my eyes and letting my head bang on the door. I stand still for a moment as my stomach continues twisting into knots, then decide to put the whole fucking thing out of my mind.

I grip the box tightly in my left hand as I walk to my desk and grab a manila envelope from the bottom drawer. Tossing it to the desktop, I pick up a black marker and write across the front of it.

_Do Not Fucking Open_

I put my initials underneath and feel pretty sure no one – except maybe Rose – would dare open anything I mark that way. After I seal the ring box inside, I stuff the whole thing into the safe and shut the door.

Out of sight, out of mind. I feel better already.

* * *

When I hear Bella come in to the condo, I walk out from the kitchen, slinging a towel over my shoulder.

"Oh, my God! It smells so good in here," she says, smiling at me as she drops her keys into the copper bowl on the console. "You're cooking?"

"Yeah," I answer, pulling her close when I get to her. "What the fuck did you think was gonna happen when I said we'd eat dinner later?"

She giggles as she shifts to wrap her arms around my neck. "I thought you meant order a pizza or something," she replies. "What are you making?"

"Paella," I say nonchalantly, then laugh when she gasps and pulls me down to kiss her.

"You're making my favorite?" she murmurs happily.

"I am," I answer, groaning quietly when she opens her lips, letting me in.

"Wait," she mumbles, rearing back to look at me teasingly. "What am I going to have to do later in return?"

"Wait and see, baby," I answer suggestively, then jump away when she digs her fingers in to the ticklish spot under my arms. I hold my hands up in surrender. "Stop! Stop! I give. You don't have to do anything. Here, I'll take your coat. You go shower. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."

It takes effort, but I put all the worry about the opening and all the shit with Aro out of my mind, determined to concentrate on her. We spend the next two hours eating, talking, laughing. By the time we start on a second bottle of wine, we've moved to sit on the couch. My feet are propped on the coffee table and Bella is turned sideways with her legs across my lap.

"It's late, ballerina," I remark when I notice that it's past midnight. I slide my hand inside the hem of her pajama pants to rub across her ankle. "You're going to be tired for work in the morning."

"Aro said he probably wouldn't be in anyway," she shrugs. "I guess he hasn't told you anything about your building?"

"Uh, no," I answer, lowering my eyes as a quick jolt of fear clenches my gut. I know I should tell her. I _will_ tell her. But I don't want her worrying all night tonight. I'll wait and tell her after I know what his decision is.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, pulling on me until I bend down to kiss her. As I move my mouth with hers, I try to push the anxiety away again. I'm not as successful as before, but I manage to sound normal as I answer her.

"It's okay."

"No, I shouldn't have brought it up," she murmurs against my lips. "How can I make it up to you?"

"You could take your shirt off," I suggest, shrugging one shoulder and figuring that sex would be a good stress-reliever.

"Don't you ever think about anything else?" she laughs, tilting her head to the side so I can kiss down her neck.

"Of course, baby," I answer seriously, looking at her. "Sometimes I think about you taking your pants off."

"Edward Cullen," she scolds, but her eyes are shining as she pulls away from me and stands up. "I am _not_ taking my pants off." She turns and starts walking toward the bedroom. "If you want them off, you'll have to do it yourself."

I catch her before she's halfway down the hall, picking her up from behind. "That sounds like an invitation to me, ballerina."

We're both smiling when I get the pants off a few minutes later.

* * *

In the morning, I lie awake in bed listening to the water as Bella showers. When I hear the hair dryer turn on, I decide to get up. I can't fucking sleep anyway.

Several minutes later, I tap on the bathroom door and open it when she tells me to come in.

"I thought you'd sleep for a while," she says, turning to smile at me. "You didn't get much rest during the night."

"Neither did you," I answer, smirking as I hold a mug of coffee with milk toward her.

"Thank you, baby," she says. She stretches up to kiss me before she turns toward the mirror again. Sipping my coffee, I stand still and watch her put makeup on. When she realizes I'm staring, she smiles. "What?"

"The shit you girls do is weird," I remark, flinching away with a laugh when she tries to hit me playfully. Yawning, I set my coffee down and walk to the shower, hoping the caffeine kicks in soon. I kept Bella up late and woke her again early, and I never really slept in between. I was wide awake most of the night, looking at her, listening to her sigh. And worrying about Aro. I have a bad fucking feeling in my gut that something is going to go wrong.

When I get out of the shower, Bella isn't in the bathroom anymore. After I get ready, I go to find her, smiling slightly when I see her standing at the kitchen counter eating cereal. She looks curiously at me while she chews and swallows.

"You're never dressed this early," she comments. "Where are you going?"

"The bar. Got shit to do," I answer, rubbing a hand across my face. "The upstairs glasses are being delivered at nine. I want to wipe the shelves down and stuff first."

She pulls my hand away from my face and steps toward me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Are you nervous about the opening Saturday?" she whispers, looking up at me.

Fuck. She knows me too well. I am nervous, except she's wrong about why.

"I just want to make sure everything's ready," I reply, but I have a hard time looking her in the eye. She lifts up on her tiptoes to kiss me.

"It's going to be great, baby," she murmurs against my lips. I have a momentary pang of guilt, but when she licks across my bottom lip, I forget about everything except her.

Tightening the arm I already had around her waist, I slide my other hand up to cup the back of her neck. We kiss and pull apart several times before she holds me closer, pushing her tongue into my mouth. At the same time, she scrapes one hand down the back and side of my neck, scratching me lightly with her fingernails. She moans quietly as I move my lips more urgently against hers.

Feeling my dick harden, I move my hand down to her ass, pressing my hips to hers, and then groaning as she rocks against me. Christ, it hasn't even been two hours since I rolled on top of her in bed and woke her up, but I'm ready to go again… even though I know we can't right now. But I keep kissing her for another minute before I wrench my mouth away, resting my forehead against hers as I try to catch my breath.

"Jesus, ballerina," I pant. "You better go."

"I know," she agrees, pulling away slightly to smile at me. Moving my hand from her neck to her face, I skim my fingers along her cheek. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah," I answer, bending down to kiss her once more. Fuck, I hope I have good news by then.

* * *

"Cullen?"

"Upstairs, Volturi," I yell, shaking my head. I fucking told him I'd be upstairs when he called twenty minutes ago to say he was on his way. I also texted Emmett and told him to come in late. I don't want any witnesses for this.

I hear his deliberate footsteps on the stairs as I put the last two glasses on the back bar shelf. I turn around just in time to see his greasy hair appear when he reaches the top.

"Niiiice," he remarks, dragging the word out as he looks around. "Maybe I should raise your rent. Place is worth a lot more with the improvements you've made."

"My rate's locked in for another year and a half," I say calmly, knowing he's trying to get a rise out of me. I pick up a towel and wipe the already-shiny bar as he walks over and sits down in front of me.

"Right, right. You signed a two-year extension last summer," he says, acting like he just fucking remembered. What a dickhead. He sneers at me as he continues. "And your little girlfriend is mine for another year, too."

Clenching my jaw, I force myself not to react to his words.

"Drink?"

"It's a little early in the day," he replies, glancing at his watch. He chuckles lightly. "But what the hell? Screwdriver."

While I'm fixing his drink, he continues. "Well, Cullen, I've considered your offer," he begins. "And I've decided to accept… in part."

Of course. After jerking me around for over a month, he still can't just give me a fucking yes or no. I set his drink in front of him, and then pick up my styrofoam coffee cup and take a sip. The coffee is barely warm anymore, but it keeps me from saying something I'll regret.

"Which means?" I finally ask.

"I'd like to buy in to your business," he says. He lifts his glass and drinks half the liquid in it.

"No deal, Volturi. It's a one-owner operation," I reply, shaking my head.

"You didn't hesitate in that answer, but I wonder if you'll be as decisive about my next question," he says, smirking at me. "I've decided to let you buy one of these buildings. So, Cullen, which one would you like? Yours… or hers?"

"Hers." I speak without thinking – without _having_ to think. Immediately, I know it's the right reaction. I'll deal with Aro as long as I have to, but I want Bella to be free of him.

I see the surprise register on his face before he recovers, smiling at me again. "I'll draw up the contract and bring it by early next week."

"Fine." He finishes his drink and pulls a five dollar bill from his pocket, but I wave him off. "On the house."

He nods as he stands and turns to walk away. At the top of the stairs, he pauses to look back at me. "I didn't anticipate that choice, Cullen, although I suppose I should have," he declares, still managing to sound conceited even though he just admitted I didn't do what he thought I would. "I realized from the day I met you that you have a weakness for women."

As I watch him disappear down the stairs, I prop my elbows on the bar and exhale loudly. He's wrong – I don't have a weakness for women… I have a weakness for _one_ woman. One woman who's going to be royally pissed off when she finds out what I've done.

Fuck.

* * *

It's almost one when I get to Bella's that night. I walk straight to her room, relieved to see her sleeping, burrowed down in her bed. Maybe I can get one fucking night's sleep before I have to tell her about the buildings. I toss my jeans and shirt onto the chair in the corner, and then walk to the kitchen.

I wasn't hungry all day, but now I'm fucking starving. When I see the plate of brownies on the counter, I smile widely: She knows I fucking love it when she bakes. She even left me a note that there's milk in the fridge.

While I pour myself a glass, I stuff half a brownie in my mouth, barely chewing it before I wash it down with the milk. As I eat another bite, I turn around to lean against the counter and moan quietly, actually tasting it now. It's fucking delicious. Blindly, I reach back to get my glass, but I bump it with my elbow. Looking over my shoulder, I see the spilled milk running toward Bella's laptop at the end of the counter.

"Motherfucker," I hiss, moving to grab the computer and a stack of overturned papers underneath it. Muttering more curse words, I set the stuff on the floor and mop up the liquid with paper towels. Once it's all cleaned up, I replace the laptop and then the papers, setting them down right side up.

"What the fuck?"

I wasn't intending to snoop around her shit, but the piece of paper laying on top is from a bank and I'm reading it before I can stop myself. Three things catch my eye. The words at the top: Northwest Trust Investment Account Statement. The account owner: Isabella M. Swan. And the balance: $762,421.

"What the fuck?" I repeat.

Jesus Christ. Bella has three-quarters of a million dollars in a trust account? And she's working two jobs and living in this tiny apartment?

Then it hits me. I inhale sharply as I realize what this money must be – her dad's life insurance. That's why she doesn't spend it… or talk about it. It stings a little that she's never mentioned it though.

I turn out the light and head back to her bedroom. As I climb under the covers, she rolls over, pressing herself up against my side and mumbling something.

"What?" I chuckle.

She repeats whatever she was trying to say, but I still can't understand it.

"Okay, baby," I answer, hoping that satisfies her. I guess it does because she sighs the way she always fucking does at night. Turning on my side to face her, I kiss her forehead and wrap my arm around her. "Night, ballerina."

* * *

"So, Cullen, how's the dancer chick?" Josh asks, tossing some chips in the middle of the table. "Raise twenty."

Although we were good friends in college, I only see Josh once a month at poker now. I know he's more interested in distracting me from the game than he is in hearing about my relationship, but I answer anyway. "She's good. I call."

We both lay our cards down and I grin. Chuckling, I toss my cards to Paul, and then reach forward to drag the pot toward me. I knew Josh was trying to bluff his way out of a bad hand.

"Dude, is she the one we met a couple of months ago when we picked you up at the Full Moon?" Collin asks.

"Uh, yeah," I say, looking down to separate the colored chips.

"Smokin' hot," he observes.

I shrug, still intently stacking neat piles in front of me and biting my tongue. I want to insist that she's more than that, but we never really talk about women that way at poker. And Paul is the only other one here who's got a girlfriend.

"Jesus, Cullen. Are you blushing?" Josh laughs. "Does this chick mean more to you than a piece of tail or something?"

"She's my girlfriend," I reply, finally looking up to meet Josh's gaze.

"Oh, fuck. Cullen's in love," Collin jokes, as I pour more whiskey into the glass in front of me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Josh leans back in his chair and holds his hands up, palms out. "This chick is more than just a regular, convenient fuck?"

"I thought you swore off long-term fucking after that chick in college screwed you over," Paul remarks as he deals the next hand. "What was her name?"

"Emily," I answer, trying to sound disaffected as I pick up the cards in front of me. My cards are good, but my mood has suddenly gone to shit.

"I remember how you stormed around the frat house for weeks after you found out she was screwing around," Collin remarks. "She really fucked up your head."

"Yeah," I agree… because he's right. Even though I don't want to think about her, my mind drifts back. Six years ago. I can still fucking see her face clearly in my head. I guess when someone fucks up your life the way she fucked up mine, you don't forget what the bitch looked like.

Emily Donnelly was the first woman I really fell in love with – more than just the puppy love I felt for a couple of girls in high school. Physically, everything about her attracted me at the time: Long, blond hair; hazel eyes; great body with even greater tits.

When I saw her across the room at a bar one night during the fall of my sophomore year, I didn't think twice – I walked right up to her and offered to buy her a drink. She called me on my age and demanded to see my real ID, instead of the one I used to get past the bouncer. Once I showed her, she let me buy her that drink and we talked the rest of the night. Drawn in by her intelligence, I listened to every word she uttered through her pouty, red lips. I was impressed that she was pre-law, and I dismissed all her reservations about me being two years younger than she was.

Just before closing time, she invited me back to her apartment. I went willingly, even though I had never had sex with someone I had just met before. That night was the best night of my life up to that point. I was begging her to go out with me by the time I left in the morning. At first, she laughed at my repetitive pleas. But she eventually relented, and when we went out a few nights later, I was already falling hard and fast for her.

I never looked back.

If I had, I might have been suspicious about her schedule – the many late-night classes or study groups, the Sunday visits with her parents. She never let me meet any of her friends, never invited me along on those Sundays with her family.

I should have realized that I wasn't the only one. But I didn't. I believed her – believed every fucking word she said.

Two months into our supposedly-monogamous relationship, she cancelled a date with me, saying she wasn't feeling well. Ignoring her instructions to stay away, I immediately headed over to her place, armed with orange juice and cough medicine.

The half-naked guy who answered the door was expecting a pizza delivery, not an angry boyfriend. A quick blast of nausea races through me as I remember – her nonchalance, her dismissal of my accusation of betrayal, her refusal when I begged her to have a real relationship with me. Her laughter when I told her I loved her.

That night changed everything for me. Collin's right – I did mope around angrily for several weeks, and then I decided I'd play her game. I screwed who I wanted, when I wanted, with no regard for the woman's feelings at all. One-night stands… two week stands… whatever. It was all the same to me. Physical pleasure without emotion.

"Dude, Cullen, your bid," Josh says.

"Sorry," I mumble. "Raise ten." I have no idea what anyone else bid.

I lose that hand and the next three, watching my piles of colored chips shrink. When it's my turn to deal again, Josh gets up to get more snacks and Collin goes to take a piss.

"Hey, man, don't let that Emily chick fuck with your head anymore," Paul says quietly.

"I'm not," I answer, shuffling the cards.

"And don't let these other idiots who can't get girlfriends bug you either," he advises. "I've seen some of the women Collin dates. Woof."

That makes me laugh, snapping me out of my mood a little. For the next couple of hours, I win pretty steadily and drink enough to get a decent buzz going. The guys tease me a little more about Bella, getting me to admit that I know exactly where she is – out to a movie and dinner with Alice – and that she's coming over later.

I still haven't told Bella what happened with Aro, talking myself into waiting until the papers are signed. Aro's such an asshole that I wouldn't be surprised if he has a few more tricks up his sleeve. There's no sense getting Bella all upset yet, right? But if I think about it too long, it makes my gut twist around nervously.

When my phone vibrates insistently in my front pocket, I pull it out to look at it. I'm surprised at the number that appears on the screen – she's not in my contacts anymore, but I still recognize the digits. Kate.

"Hello," I say curtly, raising the phone to my ear. Wherever she is, it's fucking noisy.

"Ed – Ed – Edward," she stutters. It sounds like she's crying. Shit.

"I fold," I whisper to the guys, pushing away from the table to stand up.

"Ball and chain," Josh coughs and they all laugh, but I ignore him and walk into the living room.

"Are you… there?" she asks, her breath hitching.

"Yeah, I'm here. What's wrong?"

"I… he… left me here," she sniffles.

"Who?"

"Eric… I thought he loved me," she's cries, starting to lose control and sob. "But he said he doesn't."

"Are you drunk, Kate?"

"I think so," she answers between gasps. "Can… you come get me? I don't have anyone else to call."

Fuck.

I look at my reflection in the patio door. I watch as I raise one hand to run through the top of my hair. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

"Where are you?" I sigh.

"Gallagher's," she hiccups.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," I say quietly. "Drink some water, okay?"

"'Kay," she says. "Thank you."

"Yeah," I answer, hanging up the phone.

I walk back to the kitchen and make an excuse about something going on at the Full Moon. After slamming the rest of my drink, I pull my keys from my front pocket and tell the guys not to worry about the stacks of chips in front of my seat.

As I walk out the door of Josh's apartment building, I press the unlock button on the car remote and see my red taillights flash twice across the street. Looking up at the streetlight, I see the mist falling.

"Fucking Seattle weather," I mutter, zipping my leather jacket.

As I cross the street, I can't decide who I'm more irritated with – Kate for calling me or myself for not just calling her a fucking cab. "Fucking Kate," I mumble.

There's a new knot in my gut as I open my car door and get inside, buckling my seatbelt before I start the engine. I glance at myself in the rearview mirror as I release the parking brake and put the car in first.

Shaking my head at myself, I say what I really think.

"Fucking idiot."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Soooo, yeah. No excuse except that I'm a procrastinator. But not a quitter. :)**

**Big thanks to my three great friends who helped with this chapter and who keep me mostly sane when I freak: Littlecat358, whose help and advice is always invaluable; Michelle0526, who is a great friend and one of the best people I know; and tennesseelamb, who makes me laugh even when she's cranky. I love, love all of you.  
**

**I also want to thank Windgirl810 for all her help. :)  
**

**Thanks for reading!  
**

* * *

**BPOV**

I look around, surrounded by the sounds of the cramped, crowded restaurant; soft accordion music, silverware scraping against porcelain plates, corks quietly popping as they're eased from the necks of wine bottles. My eyes land on the couple sitting at a table near us, and I smile when I see her laugh at something her date says. Then I hear the fingers tapping impatiently on the linen-covered table. When my eyes meet the curious gaze across the booth from me, I groan inwardly.

"So, the movie was pretty predictable, don't you think?" I ask, hoping to divert her attention. Judging by the look in her eyes, it's not working.

"I _said_,you're holding out on me," she pronounces, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. "No one smiles the way you have for the last two days without a reason."

"Alice," I hiss, opening my menu in front of my face to hide my embarrassment… or hide from her. "You know I can't talk about this stuff."

"Sex? You can't talk about sex?" she asks, grinning evilly when I lower my menu and shush her. "You talked about it after the night you danced for him."

"That's because we were drinking," I whisper loudly. "I was on my third martini when I told you about it."

"Well, I'm driving you back to Edward's, so drink up, B," she laughs, nudging my full glass of red wine closer. "I want to hear all about your hot sex life."

I gulp half the glass, knowing she won't let me off the hook. She gives me a reprieve until after we've ordered, but then she's on me again. Swearing her to secrecy, I tell her about Wednesday – the paella, the sex… and the later sex.

"Oh, my God," she gushes, leaning across the table. "Isn't that the best – when they wake you up? There's something so romantic, and yet so primal, about that kind of desire."

"Alice, I can't keep having this conversation in the middle of Mario's," I whine.

"Okay, okay," she allows, holding up her hands. "What about the other thing? The L word. Did you ever tell him that he said it on New Year's?"

"No! I don't think he remembers. Maybe he didn't even mean it."

"Drunks don't lie," she laughs, picking up a piece of bread from the basket on the table. "He meant it. He's probably just not ready to say it sober. You know, it took Jasper like seven months. _I _knew he loved me. _He_ knew he loved me. But he wouldn't admit it." As she's talking, she tears off a bite of the bread and dips it in the small bowl of olive oil and balsamic vinegar between us. "Maybe you should say it first, B."

"I don't think I could," I respond, pausing to look away before I meet her gaze again. "What if he doesn't say it back?"

"What if he does?"

My heart starts to race. "But what if he doesn't?"

"Would it change your feelings for him?"

"Of course not."

"Then you should have another glass of wine and tell him," she offers quietly, smiling at me. "Tonight. When he gets home from poker."

"I might," I hedge, but I can already feel the emotion filling my chest. I _want_ to tell him, whether he's ready to say it back or not.

While we eat, Alice chatters nonstop, never landing for too long on any one subject. It's Jasper for a few minutes. Then Edward's big opening tomorrow night, which inexplicably segues into a short conversation about her cat. But my second glass of wine relaxes me, and I enjoy trying to follow her stream of consciousness.

An hour later, we walk out the door of the restaurant, laughing as we wind our way to the back of the crowded strip mall parking lot. I keep my head down, shielding my face from the falling mist. Once we're in the car, Alice starts the engine, and the windshield wipers squeak across the glass, clearing the drops of water away.

And that's when I see it.

"That looks like Edward's car," Alice remarks, squinting at the car parked on the row in front of us. Its red taillights blink twice. "Of course, there are a million black Mustangs in Seattle." She laughs, sitting back and lowering her visor. She opens the mirror cover, illuminating her reflection, and grabs a tube of lipstick from the cup holder between us.

I'm still studying the Mustang, wishing I didn't recognize the license plate number. But I do. I've had it memorized for a long time. In fact, I knew _it_ before I knew _him_. But what is it doing here? What is Edward doing here?

The flashing taillights mean Edward's either locking or unlocking it with the keyless remote from wherever he is. I'm sure he wasn't in Mario's. The restaurant isn't big, and Alice and I were seated in the rear section. We would have seen him as we left. Silently, I scan the names of the other businesses in the strip center. The tailor shop is closed. So is the dentist office. The lights are still on in the nail salon, but I'm fairly certain he's not in there. That leaves the ice cream shop and Gallagher's Bar and Grille.

Placing a hand over my suddenly-queasy stomach, I take a deep breath to calm myself. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for why Edward is here instead of at Josh's house for poker. Maybe he's picking up food. Maybe the whole poker group is here. There's no reason for me to be this apprehensive.

I take my phone from my pocket, but I don't have any missed calls or texts. He didn't know Alice and I were eating dinner at Mario's anyway. I don't think he's here looking for me.

Ahead of me, the taillights flash again, drawing my attention back to the Mustang. I lean forward slightly to look through the windshield, blinking rapidly when I finally see him. Beside me, Alice is applying lipstick while she talks, meaning I can only understand every third word… but I'm not really listening anyway. She puts the cap on the lipstick tube and drops it back into the cup holder, then snaps the mirror shut and pushes the visor up.

She gasps when she sees what I'm watching: My boyfriend is coming out of Gallagher's with his arms around a woman. The tall, light-haired woman is pressed up against his side, clutching the front of his leather jacket. Her face is downcast, but I see enough of it to recognize her. Kate.

"Bella," Alice says softly, reaching over to grasp my arm.

"Just go," I whisper, feeling sick as jealousy and disbelief collide inside. "I don't want to do this here."

"I'm sure it's nothing," she soothes quietly, moving her hand down to squeeze mine. "He's crazy about you. He would never…"

She doesn't have to finish that sentence. Honestly, I never thought he would either, but it's hard to argue with what I see. I watch in nauseated silence as they stop on the passenger side of the car and Kate turns toward him, lifting one hand to touch his face. He's talking – I can see his mouth moving – but he doesn't pull her hand away until she tries to slide it into his hair. Even in the rain, he's picky about his damn hair.

Wishing I could make myself close my eyes, I watch her loop her other arm around his shoulders, hugging him… pressing her face into his neck… leaning into him. It seems like it takes forever for him to gently nudge her back and open the car door. After he helps her inside, he shuts the door and walks around the rear of the car toward his side, never even glancing in our direction.

"Do you want to follow them?" she asks quietly as he backs out of the parking space.

"No," I reply, my voice so hushed that I'm surprised she can hear me. I watch as he drives toward the parking lot exit. If he was heading toward the Full Moon… his condo… my apartment…_anyplace_ in our life, he'd turn right. With a sinking heart, I see the blinker come on; the progressive blip, blip, blip of the three small, red lights pointing the direction he's turning – left.

"Are you still going to his place?" she asks.

"Yes," I say quietly. I'm trying not to overreact. I'm trying to imagine that he'll have an explanation.

I'm trying to believe that my whole world isn't about to collapse.

* * *

When we get to Edward's building, I insist that I want to go in alone, promising to text Alice later. She looks at me skeptically, but I assure her that I'm fine.

Upstairs, I unlock the door and walk inside, flipping on the living room lights and tossing my keys into the copper bowl on the console table as usual. I stop walking and turn around, then move back to the table and pick them up again. With a lump in my throat, I remove the condo key, and drop the rest of my keys into my open purse.

Looking down at the silver key in my hand, I remember how he smiled the night he slid it onto my keychain. Even though he's never divulged the entire story of what happened with, as he called her, the bitch he dated in college, I know she hurt him badly. And I know that it was a big deal for him to take a step forward with me. Slowly blowing out a deep breath, I set it down on the table, hoping that I don't have to give it back.

After laying my coat and purse on the couch, I go to the bedroom and get the duffle bag I brought over this afternoon. I set it on the bed and unzip it, and then walk around, picking up the things I've left here over the weeks. There's not that much – some makeup, an extra hair dryer, the dance clothes I taught class in earlier this week. I cram everything inside, and then carry the bag to the living room, dropping it beside my purse.

The buzz I had earlier is gone, leaving behind a faint ache across my forehead. I head into the dark kitchen and open the fridge to get a bottled water, but my eyes focus on the almost-empty bottle of white wine instead.

As another wave of nausea rolls through me, I grip the door handle to steady myself. Was it only two nights ago that he cooked dinner and poured me several glasses of this wine? It seems like much longer. Flashes of that evening race through my memory – the time spent talking on the couch, the hours spent pleasuring each other in his bed, the way he wrapped himself around me when we finally went to sleep.

And now I have no idea where I stand with him. I don't want to believe that he would cheat on me, but it's been forty-five minutes since I saw him leave Gallagher's. Where the hell is he?

Even though I know it will only make my head worse, I grab the bottle and a wineglass, and then walk through the dark kitchen to sit down at the table. After pouring what's left of the bottle into my glass, I take a drink and reluctantly relive the scene in the parking lot again and again: Kate clutching him; the way they stood next to the car talking… and hugging. Was he hugging her back? I can't remember. But I know that he didn't push her away. And what the _fuck_ was he doing with her in the first place?

My head has started to throb by the time the door opens half an hour later. I hear the clink of Edward's keys when he drops them into the copper bowl. I listen to his footsteps as he walks down the hallway toward the bedroom… maybe looking for me since my truck is parked in the garage.

"Bella? You here?" he calls, coming back toward the living room.

"In the kitchen," I answer flatly.

"Why are you sitting in the dark, ballerina?" he asks softly.

I look over and see him standing in the doorway, backlit by the lights from the living room. Picking up my wineglass and the empty bottle, I get up and walk through the kitchen. As I pass the recycling bin against the wall, I toss the bottle inside, wincing when it clanks loudly against the bottle we drank two days ago.

"You're back early. It's not even midnight." I stand at the sink with my back to him, draining the last bit of wine from my glass.

"Uh, yeah," he says, pausing to clear his throat. "I was having shitty luck."

"Where were you again?" I ask as I rinse my glass. When I turn the water off, I shut my eyes tightly. _Please, please tell me the truth_.

"Um, Josh's," he answers. The quick burst of pain that flashes through my chest has me gripping the edge of the countertop to keep my balance. "But I left early. He was being an asshole and I wasn't in the fucking mood to deal with it. It was a shitty goddamn night."

Fighting back tears, I don't reply, so he continues talking, nervously filling the silence by bitching about his friends. Not normal Edward behavior. I'm hardly listening while he complains, but after a minute I can't take the irritated chatter… the lies. I just want to get away from him.

I turn around, but I can't really see more than his silhouette – I can't see the expression on his face or the look in his eyes. Still struggling not to cry, I lower my eyes and walk toward the doorway. When I turn sideways to scoot past him, he reaches for my arm.

"Ballerina?"

"Don't," I snap, glaring at him. I yank my arm away and keep going.

"You're pissed at me? _Jesus Christ_," he mutters. "Are you gonna tell me why I'm in trouble or am I supposed to fucking guess?"

Stopping, I turn around slowly. He has the nerve to look like he's mad at me – eyes slightly narrowed, hands stuffed in his front pockets.

"I saw you, Edward," I whisper harshly, hoping to mask the tears still clogging my throat. "Alice and I ate dinner at Mario's. We saw you coming out of Gallagher's. With _her_."

His expression changes in a millisecond. His mouth drops open and he shakes his head quickly. "Baby, it's not what you think. We didn't… I just drove her home."

"Why didn't you tell me, then?"

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, Bella, my ex-fuck buddy got dumped and was a fucking mess and asked me to come get her'?" he asks, raising his voice slightly. His blunt words cut through me, making me bend forward a little and cross my arms over my stomach in an attempt to dull the pain. "I don't think that would have gone over very well." He finishes with a humorless chuckle as he lifts his hands to scrub across his face.

"So you chose to lie instead," I accuse. "After you totally disregarded my feelings – our relationship – to go to her, then you lied about it to cover it up."

"I wasn't disregarding anything about us, Bella," he insists, taking a couple of steps toward me. "I was just trying to be a nice guy. She had no fucking one else to call."

"Except a cab," I point out. "Or you could have called me and let me know what was going on instead of sneaking around with her." I bow my head to hide the tears that have begun to leak from the corners of my eyes.

"You're right," he says softly, moving to stand right in front of me. "But it was all innocent. Nothing happened."

"You didn't push her away when she was all over you." Unsure if I'm more angry at him or at my quivering voice, I raise one hand and roughly wipe my tears.

"She was upset. It wasn't like she was coming on to me or anything."

"How would _you_ feel, Edward?" I ask, raising my head back up to look at him. "If you saw me hugging some ex, meeting up with him secretly, and then lying about it?"

"I'd fucking hate it," he admits with a sigh. "I'm sorry, ballerina. I should have told you. But nothing happened. Please believe me."

Even though I don't feel like telling him right now, I do believe him. I don't think he would screw her, and then come here like nothing had happened. But I don't know where to go from here. How do I stop feeling like _this_? When he reaches for me, I step away, running into the back of the couch. His eyes drop to the cushion where my things are.

"Are you leaving?" he asks without looking at me.

"I don't know," I mumble.

"I don't want you to go." His bloodshot green gaze meets mine again. I wonder for an instant if it's from the alcohol I can smell on him or if he's tired… or if he's upset, too. "Please stay."

We stare at each other for what feels like a long time, but I'm sure it's only a minute or so. Finally, I nod slightly and step toward him. This time, when he tries to put his arms around me, I let him.

* * *

Exhausted from all the emotion and wine, I'm out as soon as I burrow down in the bed. I never sleep deeply though, waking up often during the night. And after four o'clock, I don't sleep at all. Every time I close my eyes, I see Edward with Kate. I guess I sort of understand why he picked her up, but other troubling things keep running through my head. What else isn't he telling me? Has he done this before and not been caught? Does he ever miss her? Did she do things with him – to him – that I don't? Seeing him with her has unearthed every insecurity I have about our relationship.

Finally, a little before seven, I'm too restless to lie still any longer and decide to go to the studio. Since Edward said he wasn't going to the bar until about ten, I try to be quiet as I get dressed. Walking through the living room, I spot my duffle on the couch and remember that there are dance clothes in it. I pick it up and take it with me so I won't have to stop at my apartment on the way.

The sun is just coming up as I drive into the parking lot and pull into my regular spot near the side door. With my purse and duffle hanging from my right shoulder, I struggle to unlock and open the door without dropping my phone and the coffee I stopped to get. I dump everything on the desk in my office, change clothes in the bathroom, and walk into the chilly studio in just booty shorts and a tank top. It won't take me long to warm up.

I start with songs from my slow, lyrical playlist, thinking the sad lyrics will fit my mood. They don't; I'm too agitated. Once I'm warmed up, I put on faster, jazzy music and spend two songs turning. Today, though, even fast turns don't pull me out of my funk.

With a heavy sigh, I walk back to the stereo and scroll down to my hip hop list. I'm not sure I'm in the mood for it, and I've never danced to hip hop to relieve emotional tension, but I'm out of other options.

Twenty minutes later, I'm even more frustrated as I try to kick-up like Seth showed me months ago. I lie flat on my back, roll onto my shoulders, pulling my knees up for momentum, then spring forward. I should pop onto my feet; I end up falling on my ass. Again and again. But I'm determined to get it.

After almost an hour of trying, my shoulders are raw from rubbing the floor and my tailbone is pretty sore. Deflated, I turn to face the mirror, sitting cross-legged and staring at my reflection.

"I can do this," I mutter, tilting my neck from side-to-side to stretch it out. "And then I'm going next door and telling my boyfriend that I love him, and I want him to stop fucking hiding things from me."

Taking a deep breath, I lie down once more. I roll back, spring forward, and land on my feet, looking at myself in the mirror, shocked. Grinning excitedly, I drop to the floor to make sure it wasn't a fluke. It wasn't – I'm able to do it again, not resisting the urge to clap triumphantly this time when I pop up. After practicing it several more times, I walk to the stereo and start the playlist over, turning the volume up louder.

For several songs, I let my body move to the heavy bass beat. I circle my hips, practice my footwork, do body rolls. I drop backward, catching myself on one arm, and then switching to balance on my other arm. Swinging my legs side-to-side in the Spongebob, I laugh lightly, thinking how my young hip hop class sings along when we do this step to the cartoon's theme song.

Dripping with sweat, but feeling so much better, I bend forward, flipping my ponytail back as I stand again. I let my eyes slide closed and raise my linked arms above my head, grinding my hips to the right in time with the music.

"Well, this certainly is a stimulating view."

I jump and open my eyes, startled. Gasping, I hold a hand over my heaving chest as I whirl around to face the uninvited visitor standing just inside the doorway.

"Oh, my God, Aro! You scared me to death."

"Isabella," he says, shutting the door, "you know I would never intentionally frighten you."

"What are you doing here?" I puff, trying to catch my breath. Looking nervously around the room, I realize I didn't bring anything in here with me – no sweat towel, nothing to cover up with, no cell phone. To hide my concern, I walk to the stereo and turn the volume down.

"I came to bring these papers to Cullen, but no one's next door yet. When I saw your truck here, I decided to stop in and have a last look around the place before I sell it."

Surprised, I snap my head around to look at him. "You're selling the buildings to him?"

"No. I'm selling _this_ building to him," he corrects. "He didn't tell you?"

"Huh uh," I breathe. I use one forearm to wipe sweat from my forehead as I walk back toward the center of the room. I'm not letting him corner me against a wall today.

"I let him choose which one of the buildings he wanted to buy," Aro says, smirking at me. "He opted for yours."

My anger at Edward flares, but I push it down for the moment. It's not a good idea for me to be distracted by my fury at Edward while Aro's here. I'll deal with him later.

"Why won't you just sell both of them?"

"Where's the fun in that?" he laughs. Then, holding my gaze with his dark, beady eyes, he moves toward me. The hair on the back of my neck prickles and my heart thumps erratically in my chest. "Although you might be able to persuade me to change my mind. The offer I made you last fall still stands. I would be willing to give you almost anything if you just give _me_… what… I… want."

"You know I have a boyfriend," I say quietly, struggling not to be intimidated by him as he stops right in front of me.

"He wouldn't have to know. I'm very discreet. And I've been exceedingly patient," he answers. He reaches up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. "It's not like Cullen's faithful anyway. Everyone knows it, but nobody wants to tell you."

"Stop it, Aro," I reply angrily, jerking my head away. I know he's making this stuff up, but it still rattles me. I feel like throwing up all over his $600 loafers.

Arching an eyebrow at me, he lets his gaze slide down my body, and then slowly back up. "I usually prefer my women a little more docile, but there is something intriguing about your fiery temperament, Isabella. It does strange things to me."

"I think you'd better go," I say, putting more force into the words than I really feel. Although I went to self-defense classes several years ago, I've never actually had to use any of the techniques I learned. And I'm not sure if my strength would be a match for Aro's if he decided to get physical.

"Bella?" Edward's voice in the hallway is the best sound I've ever heard.

"In here," I call, stepping away from Aro. When the door opens, Edward's panicked eyes meet mine. Exhaling in relief, I nod slightly, trying to let him know I'm okay.

"Well, I should be going," Aro says, winking at me before he turns to face Edward. "Cullen, I brought the contract for the sale of the building. I set the closing date for two weeks. Hope you can raise the cash by then."

"It won't be a problem," Edward says tersely, taking the folder Aro holds toward him.

"Isabella, think about what I said," he says as he walks out.

Neither Edward nor I speak until the heavy, metal side door bangs shut behind Aro.

"What did he say?"

Turning away from Edward, I walk to the window and twist the blinds open. "That you're cheating on me," I reply flatly. "And that he'll sell you both buildings if I screw him."

"Jesus Christ! You have to quit working for him."

"Maybe instead of telling me what to do you should be telling me what the hell _you've_ been doing," I seethe, turning to face him. "You're buying this building when you had the chance to buy yours?"

"It just happened Thursday," he explains. "I wanted to get through the weekend first. I promise I was gonna tell you after the Super Bowl party."

"Right," I scoff. "What else haven't you told me?"

"Fucking nothing, ballerina. I swear," he insists. "Why did you let him in the door?"

"I didn't," I admit, knowing Edward's going to freak about this part. He's on my case all the time about not locking up when I'm here alone. "It was unlocked."

"Goddammit, Bella!" he yells. "Do you know what it did to me when I drove in and saw his fucking car parked next to yours? And the door was locked when I tried it. I had to get Rose's keys to get in here. He could have… fuck, baby. You have to be more careful."

"I know," I whisper shakily, looking down at the ground. I'm trying to hold it together, but I wish we weren't pissed at each other because I really want nothing more than for him to hold me close and comfort me. Needing to do something with my hands, I clasp them in front of me.

I hear him blow out a breath. "How come you took all your stuff this morning and gave your key back?"

Realizing that he must think I'm breaking up with him, I look up at him again quickly. "I just forgot to pick up my key. And I brought my bag because it had dance clothes in it."

His face relaxes and he smiles slightly. "You're not pissed off about last night anymore?"

"Oh, I'm still pissed about that," I answer sharply, unleashing the anger I suppressed when Aro was here. Edward's face settles into a scowl when he hears the tone of my voice. "But, honestly, that's taking a backseat right now to my anger about the building. How am I supposed to trust you when you're always hiding things from me?"

"Are you joking? _I'm_ the one always hiding things?" he asks, green eyes darkening with anger. "Jesus Christ, you don't even realize what a hypocrite you sound like, do you? You stand there lecturing me about not telling you shit while you've got a giant-ass trust fund that you've never fucking mentioned."

Gasping, I take a step back. "You snooped through my stuff?"

"No, I didn't fucking snoop through your stuff," he protests, insulted. "I saw the statement by accident."

"It's my dad… his life insurance," I whisper as tears sting my eyes. "I don't even want the money."

"I assumed it was something like that," he nods. "And I guess that's the difference between us, Bella. I always assume the best about you. And you always assume the worst about me."

"No, I don't," I argue, sniffling. "But the last two days, you've kept big stuff – _huge_ stuff – from me."

"And you've had the trust fund since before I met you," he spits, scrubbing his free hand across his face. "You're not the only one that gets hurt by this shit, Bella." We're quiet for a few seconds before he lowers his hand, glancing at his watch. "Christ. I don't have time to do this right now. I have a fuckload of stuff to do at the bar. I'll see you tonight."

"I'm not coming." The words are out of my mouth before I even have time to think about the implications of what I'm saying.

His mouth drops open, but he recovers quickly and glares at me. "Perfect," he fumes. "At least lock the fucking door behind me."

He turns and stomps out of the room as I raise my hands to cover my mouth. I hold the sobs in, though, until I hear the door slam shut. Crying, I rush to my office and pull on my yoga pants. I grab my jacket, bag and keys, and then rush out the side door. After locking up, I get in my truck, grateful that I don't see anyone from next door as I go.

Eyes still burning with tears, I drive home on auto-pilot and drop my stuff right inside the door. Refusing to think about him, about what just happened, I grab an ice pack from the freezer and head for the couch. My tailbone is killing me. Hoping to distract myself, I turn on the television and lie down, adjusting the ice pack, and then covering up with my dad's afghan. After a while, I doze off, sleeping soundly until a sharp knock at the door wakes me.

"Isabella Swan, I'm using my key if you don't open this door in three seconds," Alice yells from outside. "One. Two."

Just as I'm sitting up on the couch, the door flies open. "Three?" I ask sarcastically. "I was sleeping, and you didn't even give me a chance to get to the door."

"Well, you said you'd text me last night," she insists, walking in and kicking the door shut with her foot. "It's almost three o'clock, and not only have you not gotten in touch with me, I can tell from texting you nine million times that your damn phone is either turned off or dead. I came to make sure you were still alive."

"You think I would kill myself?" I frown.

"Not on purpose, but showers can be slippery," she asserts. She takes her coat off and lays it over the back of the chair. "Although that clearly wasn't something I needed to worry about today."

Reaching for my hair, I feel it sticking up crazily. "Shut up," I order, trying to smile. "I think I left my phone at the studio."

She flops onto the other end of the couch, narrowly missing my feet. "How are you doing, honey?" I shrug, and then shake my head as tears fill my eyes again. "Tell me what's going on."

I relay as much as I remember about what happened last night and this morning, pausing to blow my nose after Alice brings the box of tissues from the bathroom. Uncharacteristically, she's mostly quiet until I've finished.

"He found out about the money before you got a chance to tell him?"

"I had plenty of chances," I admit. "I just _didn't_ tell him. I hate the trust fund… I hate talking about it… I hate the reason I have it. It's blood money."

"It's _love_ money. Your dad wanted you to be okay if anything ever happened to him," she says gently. "You should have told Edward."

"I know," I agree. "But I was afraid to. I dreaded having to explain why I won't use it."

"Oh, B. The things you're the most scared to tell him are the things you absolutely have to tell him," she advises, patting my foot. Her know-it-all relationship advice is starting to piss me off.

"I get that I should have told him, but really, Alice, this whole thing started because _he_ lied. _He _screwed up."

"Yes, he screwed up. But he didn't screw _Kate_."

"But he was with her! And if we hadn't seen him, he never would have told me," I cry. "He also chose not to talk about Aro's ultimatum with me."

"Both of you made bad choices," she nods.

"Quit making this about me!" I insist, raising my voice. "It's like you're on his side or something."

"I'm so sorry," she says sympathetically, scooting over to hug me. "Of course I'm on your side. But you guys will work it all out."

"I don't know about that," I whisper.

"Sure you will," she contends, squeezing more tightly for a second before pulling back. "You go hit the shower while I pick out a hot outfit for you to wear tonight. You can ride with Jasper and me."

"I'm not going," I declare.

Her eyes widen, but she doesn't say anything. If I wasn't so upset, I would be amused by the surprised expression on her face. I can't remember the last time I saw her truly speechless.

"You have to… you can't just…," she stammers, blinking quickly at me. "This is, like, _the biggest night_ for his business."

"I can't face him."

"Don't be a baby. You shouldn't need my prodding to get your ass there," she frowns. "But, Bella, this is me prodding. Get your ass there."

I look at her and shake my head.

"Please change your mind."

"Please quit trying to boss me around," I retort, annoyed.

"This is the man you love, honey. You show up to support him whether you're mad at him or not."

Pulling my knees to my chest, I lower my head, tired of looking into her judgmental eyes.

"God, B, he's going to be so hurt," she says sadly. Deep down, I know she's right, but my own pain and stubborn pride will not be swayed. She sighs. "Well, it's your choice. For the record, though, _you're_ the one screwing up now."

I lie back down despondently while Alice hustles around my apartment. She brings me water and ibuprofen. She heats up a bowl of the soup I made Thursday night and refuses to leave me alone until I eat a few bites.

"Lift up. I brought a new ice pack for your bum," she smirks after I've eaten. "You know, you really should elevate the injured area. Maybe you should do that puppy pose we used to do in yoga. You remember. Head down, ass up."

"Ha ha. You're hilarious." I roll my eyes at her as we exchange cold packs.

"Can I borrow your shiny, black skirt for tonight?" she asks.

"You're still going?" She nods, raising a challenging eyebrow at me. Sighing, I wiggle around to get comfortable on the ice pack. "I guess. Sure."

She claps enthusiastically, and five minutes later, she's out the door with my skirt and a smile, leaving me feeling abandoned. Depressed, I curl into a ball on the couch and flip channels until I find an old movie to watch. Before it's over, I fall asleep again.

The room is getting dark when I wake up with a start. I'm disoriented… panicked. I feel like I'm forgetting something.

Oh, my God. Edward. The opening.

_What am I doing? _

Screwing up. That's what I'm doing. I love him and I want to work this out. My eyes dart to the clock on the wall. Six o'clock. Shit! I'm supposed to be there right now. Throwing back the afghan, I get up, rushing to get ready. I don't even balk at putting on the dark, skinny jeans and skimpy top Alice laid out on my bed. She must have hoped – or figured – that I would come to my senses eventually.

I pull on the motorcycle boots that are Edward's favorite, put on the hoodie he gave me that day so long ago, and bolt out the door. I just hope I'm not too late.

* * *

When I get to the Full Moon, there's nowhere to park in the lot. I end up parking on the street half a block up. As I walk toward the front door of the bar, I can hear the music – the band has already started. Inside, I stand still, scanning the crowd, but I don't see him. I hear Rosalie though.

"Bella Swan, it's about fucking time!" she yells, clamping my arm and pulling me behind her as she weaves her way toward the steps. "Edward's upstairs having a miserable time, which, honestly, was kind of funny at first, but _everyone_ is in his line of fire now. Get your ass up there and fix him!"

"You're not coming with me?" I ask, twisting around as she pushes me until I move up two stairs.

"Nope. When _I_ was in charge of your relationship, everything was fine. You two screwed this up by yourselves, and you can work it out by yourselves," she announces with a smirk. "I don't think he'll lie to you again. Just sayin'. So, if you don't really want to know if your ass looks big in a pair of jeans, don't ask him." She smacks my leg with a laugh, and then walks away.

Biting my lip, I hurry up the stairs, anxious to see him. Anxious to make up with him. I stop at the top, my eyes drawn to the two, not-miserable people sitting on top of the bar against the far wall – Edward and Victoria, the red-headed bitch. Architect. Whatever. They're smiling, posing for a picture in front of the Full Moon logo that's etched into the mirror on the back bar.

Dumbfounded, I watch as Victoria and her ridiculously short skirt scoot closer, angling her long, bare legs toward him. She rests her hand on his shoulder as Esme snaps a photo. Someone who looks suspiciously like Alice hands each of them a shot, and I feel the breath I was holding rush out in a gust as they tap glasses and drink. Esme's flash lights up several more times while I stare at him.

He finally shifts his gaze my way after he sets his glass down. We look at each other for less than a second before I turn and hurry back down the stairs. I hear him following, calling my name, but I don't stop. He's fast, though, and catches up just after I reach the main floor.

"Bella, hang the fuck on," he says, grasping my wrist. When I stop, he slides his hand down, wrapping his fingers around my palm. "Come with me."

I don't resist when he pulls me down the hallway toward his office. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, letting me walk in first. I toss my purse toward the couch, and then turn around just as he closes the door and leans back against it. Although I can still hear the muffled sounds of the bar, it's quiet in here since neither of us says anything for a minute. Finally, I can't stand the tense silence.

"You have a good crowd."

"Everybody showed up… except the one fucking person I wanted here the most," he says irritably.

"My absence didn't seem to slow you down," I answer snottily, folding my arms across my chest. "You looked pretty happy cozied up on the bar with what's-her-name."

"We were just taking a fucking picture," he defends, narrowing his eyes. "She's a bitch, but she did work hard to get the space the way I wanted it."

"That's not the only thing she's working hard at," I mutter. "And you just eat up the attention."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I roll my eyes before I reply. "Oh, Edward, come on. She hasn't exactly been subtle in her pursuit of you."

"So?"

"So? Have you been cheating on me?"

"What?" he asks, frowning at me. "No! Jesus, Bella. You seriously believe that shit Aro was spouting this morning? I wouldn't do that. I love–."

"No!" I spit through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare say that to me now just to get yourself out of trouble."

"If I was saying it just to get myself out of trouble, I would have said it _last _night," he grumbles.

"If it was true, you would have said it before now." I cringe when I hear my curt words, realizing that I'm being a hypocrite again; I haven't said it either.

"It's not fucking true if I don't say it out loud?" he asks, looking at me disbelievingly. Clearly aggravated, he pushes one hand into the top of his hair. "I never tried to hide the way I feel about you. Every fucking person who knows me can see it. And you know me better than anyone else."

"I thought I did."

Sliding his hand forward, he stretches his fingers wide across his forehead to shield his eyes. He rubs his thumb against one temple and his middle finger against the other, raising his voice when he speaks again. "It's not easy for me, okay? To say it. The last girl I said it to didn't feel the same about me."

"I'm the last girl you said it to." My words are hushed, spoken around the sudden lump in my throat.

Dropping his hand, he locks his shocked gaze on mine. Long seconds tick by, marked by the rapid beating of my heart, while he blinks at me in confusion. "What?"

"You said it to me once. On New Year's Eve."

"Shit." His shoulders slump and he leans his head against the door behind him, closing his eyes. He swallows a couple of times, lifts his hands to scrub across his face, and then finally lowers his head to look at me again. "I don't remember, ballerina. But it's fucking true. I love you."

The warmth that sweeps through me spurs me to take one step forward as I reply. "I love you, too."

The left side of his mouth twitches, curls slightly upward. "Then can we stop the fucking fighting and start the making up?"

As I walk toward him, nodding, he pushes off the door, pulling me in close when I reach him. I wrap my arms around his waist and hang on tightly, breathing easily for the first time in almost twenty-four hours.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper against his shirt.

Loosening his hold, he slides his hands up to cup both sides of my neck. With a sigh, he leans down to rest his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry, too, baby."

He shifts his head to kiss me, pressing his thumbs lightly against my jaw until I open my lips. We move our mouths together urgently, and I whimper as he pulls back briefly to switch angles, pausing to nip at my lower lip before diving in to kiss me again.

Wanting to get closer to him, I shift my arms, sliding them up his chest to wind around his neck. At the same time, he grips my waist and lifts me up, never stopping the movement of his mouth as he turns us around. He presses me against the door, and then pulls my legs to wrap around him. Moaning quietly, I tilt my hips to meet his as he rocks against me several times.

When he thrusts against me more forcefully, pushing me into the door, I twist my head away, inhaling sharply through my teeth at the pain.

"What's wrong, ballerina? Did I hurt you?" he asks, holding still and looking intently at me. Breathing hard, I nod. "Where, baby?"

"My butt. I hurt my tailbone today when I was dancing," I pant.

His eyes shine with amusement when he speaks. "You broke your ass?"

"It's not funny," I declare, but I giggle when he chuckles.

"You bet your broken ass it's not," he answers. "Hang on."

I cling to him as he carries me to the couch. He sits down and helps me adjust my legs so I'm straddling his lap.

"Is this bet–"

I don't let him finish before I crash my lips to his, burying my hands in his hair. Immediately realizing what I'm doing, I drop my hands and pull my mouth away.

"Oops," I whisper. "Your hair."

"You can put your hands wherever you want," he answers hoarsely, reaching between us to unzip my jacket. I pull my arms out of the sleeves and let the hoodie drop to the floor behind me, then dig my hands into his hair again as he skims his lips down my neck.

Immediately, he slides his hands up my shirt to cup my breasts. He quickly realizes that I'm wearing a strapless bra and pushes it down, out of his way. I sigh as gentle fingers graze my ribs and hot breath fans my bare collarbone. Brushing his thumbs around my nipples, he leans his head back to look at me.

"It's kind of hot when you're jealous," he says, smirking.

"I was _not_ jealous," I reply breathily. Lifting one eyebrow at me, he grasps my nipples, pinching lightly as I moan. "Okay, I was a _little_ jealous."

"A little?" he laughs. Using my body as leverage, I lean sideways, pulling him with me, until he lies down. He settles on his back, dragging me on top of him.

"Are you trying to start another fight?" I tease.

"No," he groans as I move against him. "Fuck. Definitely not."

"Good," I smile, lowering my mouth to his.

He shifts his hands to my back, holding me close as I kiss him, pausing several times to bite his lower lip gently. Delighting in the way his hips buck underneath me, I slowly slide my lips to his cheek… his ear… his jaw… his neck. He groans and moves his hands, bringing one up to tangle in my hair and gripping my hips with the other.

I take my time working down his neck, reaching in between us to undo the first few buttons on his shirt and then slipping my hand inside. Under my hand, his heart beats wildly as I touch my tongue to the pulse point at the base of his throat.

When someone pounds on the door, I try to pull away, but Edward holds my head still. "Don't stop, ballerina," he pleads.

"Edward, Bella. I know you guys are in there," Rose yells, banging on the door again.

"Go away, Rose." His voice is strained as he calls out to her. Smiling against his skin, I let my lips glide down to the bare skin of his chest. He pushes himself against me roughly again.

"I can't. Jake and his parents are here looking for Bella."

"Crap," I whisper, arching up to look at Edward. "I didn't know they were coming tonight."

"We'll be out in a minute," he says loudly, sighing.

"You need to come now," she argues. "I've already stalled them for twenty minutes."

"Fuck," he mutters, sitting up after I push myself off him. I lift my shirt up and pull my bra back into place while he watches. "You're trying to kill me."

"I'm not," I say, smiling as I bend down to kiss him. "But I'm still in trouble for not going to Forks for Christmas, and now I'm caught screwing around with my boyfriend."

"Come home with me tonight?" he murmurs against my lips.

"I didn't bring clothes."

"You won't need them," he counters, gripping the backs of my thighs.

"Okay," I giggle, kissing him once more. "I gotta go see Sue and Billy. I love you."

"I love you, too," he answers. "I'll be out in a couple of minutes. Guess I'm meeting the family, huh?"

"They're nice, Edward," I reply, backing away. "I promise."

He nods, and then I turn to open the door, stepping into the hallway with Rose… who's looking at me suspiciously.

"You guys have been back here fooling around?" she asks, frowning as I pull the office door shut behind me. "I thought you were fighting."

"We were. And then we weren't," I shrug.

Shaking her head, but amused, she straightens my clothes and fixes my hair. "I can't do anything about the glazed eyes. Just pretend you've been drinking."

"All right."

Looping her arm through mine, she starts up the hallway. "Edward has no clue what he's about to walk into, does he?" She smirks at me. "I thought Jake and Jared were big, but their dad is fucking huge. Hope he doesn't figure out that Edward's been pawing you in the back room."

"Maybe I was the one doing the pawing," I retort. She laughs and squeezes my arm.

"I'm glad you guys worked it out. My brother is an asshole sometimes, but he really does love you."

"I know," I answer softly, smiling first at the floor and then at her. "I know."

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Yep, still a procrastinator. But still not a quitter. :)**

**Truly appreciate anyone who's still reading. And, of course, I'm grateful for all follows, favorites and reviews.**

**Two wonderful friends helped me with this chapter: Littlecat358 beta'd and Michelle0526 preread. Thank you both! xoxo But I can't stop tweaking, so all mistakes are mine.**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**

* * *

**EPOV**

As soon as Bella steps into the hall with Rose and shuts the office door, I let my head fall back against the top of the couch, hitting the wall behind me with a thud.

"Fuck," I mutter, drawing the word out and reaching both hands up to scrub across my face. This day almost goddamned killed me.

Bella was smiling a minute ago, but when I close my eyes, I keep seeing the hurt look on her face last night… and this morning… and earlier tonight. It tears me up to know that I was the cause of it every time. Christ, how much can I fuck up in twenty-four hours?

I had my own share of misery today, too, though. Even now, knowing how it all turned out, my chest tightens when I remember waking up alone, seeing Aro's car parked at the studio, fighting with Bella. And my already-shitty mood deteriorated throughout the night as I continually searched the crowd, looking for the only face I really wanted to see and never finding it. I was snapping at everyone on my staff by the time Jasper hauled my ass upstairs to get a drink. While we knocked back a couple shots of Irish, he tried to make me feel better, telling me that Bella would forgive me… eventually.

After enduring unsolicited advice from both him _and_ my dad, I was actually a little relieved when Victoria arrived in her short skirt and hung around until I was forced to introduce her. She pretended to be humble when my dad complimented her architectural skills. Then she acted overly sweet to my mom, talking about how much she liked working with me on the upstairs design. My mom ate that shit up and demanded that I sit on the bar with Victoria so she could take a picture. I wasn't entirely fucking happy about it, but I didn't think Victoria would be all over me with my mom standing right there – and I certainly didn't think that would be the exact time Bella would finally show. I was fucking wrong about both of those things. As I chased Bella down the stairs, I swore to myself that if I caught her, I'd quit being such a pussy and tell her the truth I've left unsaid for weeks: I love her.

In my office, I thought I'd never get the words out, but I did. I was afraid she wouldn't say it back, but she did. That moment and the twenty minutes of making out that followed were the best parts of this whole goddamned day.

Exhaling forcefully, I shift my legs farther apart, dropping one hand to adjust my dick. Unfortunately, it hasn't gotten the message yet that there's no chance of relief for several more hours. Fucking Rose. I don't care that she interrupted us for a good reason or that it wasn't really her fault; I'm still kind of pissed at her.

"Jesus Christ. What now?" I groan under my breath when I hear the door hinges creak quietly. I can't get five minutes alone in my own damn office. Moving my hands to rest on the couch beside my legs, I crack one eye open and see Emmett coming in, carrying two longnecks.

"You've gotta be the unluckiest motherfucker in Seattle," he chuckles. "Busted by your girl two nights in a row for letting another woman hang all over you – when you weren't even screwing around. That's some tragically bad karma."

"No shit," I agree, sitting up straight. Honestly, I know luck had nothing to do with it. The whole thing was caused by a series of really fucking terrible decisions, all made by me. That's not something I want to discuss with Emmett right now, though. After I say thanks and take the bottle he holds toward me, he taps his against it.

"Good opening tonight, E."

"Hmm," I hum, lifting the icy bottle to my lips. I drink quickly, downing a third of the beer before taking a breath. "What the fuck are you doing back here?"

"Hiding from your mom."

Since I had tipped the bottle back again, I suck cold beer into my lungs when I laugh and end up choking. "Why?" I cough.

"All she wants to do is talk to me about weddings and babies," he complains. "It's like she thinks I'm the chick in the relationship."

"You are," I quip hoarsely.

"Watch it, dickhead. Haven't you had enough people pissed off at you today?" he asks, perching on the edge of my desk. He's smiling, though. "I heard your mom and Alice lay into you earlier, and the whole staff heard Rose screaming at you this morning."

"She also fucking gut-punched me when she found out what I did."

"She said it was a sister's prerogative," he replies with a shrug. "And that you deserved it."

"I probably did," I agree. "But she didn't have to tell Mom. Jesus. I used to be able to be an asshole in peace."

He laughs, and I take another drink of beer to hide my grin. I can't help it – I'm pretty fucking happy.

"I take it you and Tiny worked your shit out."

"Yeah," I nod. "We still have some stuff to talk about, but we're good." Christ. Now _I_ sound like the chick. "I'm supposed to be out there. Jake's parents are here."

"I know. I met them," he remarks.

Dropping my eyes to the label on my bottle, I watch as I use my thumb to roll the wet paper away from the glass. A heavy knot settles in the pit of my stomach. "Were you nervous around my parents after you and Rose started dating?"

"Nah. Doc and Esme are cool," he states. "But I already knew them pretty well through you. I think that made a difference. Why? Are you nervous?"

"As fuck." I take another big drink of my beer. His answering chuckle irritates the hell out of me. Looking up, I tell him to fuck off, but that only makes him laugh harder.

"Sorry, E. But watching you go through all this is pretty entertaining," he says, not put off by my glare.

"Well, that's a fucking relief. I was afraid _no one _would enjoy it," I grumble sarcastically. "I gotta get out there."

"You might want to button up first, lover boy," he remarks, pointing his bottle at the front of my shirt.

Lowering my eyes to my chest, I realize my shirt is still wide open. Shit. I forgot Bella had me half undressed. With a smirk, I glance at Emmett again as I lift my bottle and finish the last of my beer. Standing up, I toss it in the trash can and fix my shirt, then exhale loudly.

"Relax, E. They'll see you're a good guy," he says, walking toward the office door. He opens it and waits for me to walk through. "And whatever hoops you have to jump through, she's worth it, right?"

"Right." But I still feel like puking.

"And as long as nobody tells Mr. Black about the many, many, _many _women in your past, you'll be fine," he chuckles.

"Shut the fuck up," I mumble, elbowing him as I walk by. He shuts the door behind us and trails me up the hallway – irritating me again. "Why are you following me?"

"Because I can't wait to see your reaction."

"Reaction to what?"

Out front, I pause, scanning the faces in the packed room, but I don't see Bella.

"They're upstairs." Emmett yells, trying to be heard over the noise of the band.

We climb the steps side by side, and as we round the railing at the top, I see Victoria still seated at the bar. Josh and Collin are sitting next to her, probably hitting on her. Honestly, I had enough of their shit last night at poker, but I lift my chin in acknowledgement when Collin waves. Victoria looks at me over her shoulder, and then makes a show of crossing her long legs and giggling exaggeratedly at whatever Josh said. Jesus. It would be hard to judge who the biggest asshole in that trio is, but I don't waste time trying. At the other end of the bar, my mom is talking to Leah and another woman. That must be Mrs. Black.

Shifting my eyes to the people standing just behind them, I spot Bella and Jake… and a fucking giant. The man resting his enormous hand on Bella's upper back has to be six and a half feet tall. At least. Fresh fear clenches my chest and I feel my jaw drop as I abruptly stop walking. Emmett steps up beside me.

"Yep. That's the look I wanted to see," he snickers, whacking me on the back.

Over Bella's shoulder, Jake notices me and grins, amused. Snapping my mouth shut, I swallow uncomfortably as he says something that makes both Bella and Mr. Black turn to look, too. Fighting the urge to run right the fuck back to my office, I force myself to meet Mr. Black's dark eyes even though I think he's scowling at me. After holding his intense stare for a minute, I slide my gaze to Bella. She smiles, and I automatically smile back at her.

"Go," Emmett urges, nudging me forward when she crooks her finger. He didn't really need to push – I'm pretty fucking helpless when it comes to her. If she wants me over there, I'm going. So I walk straight toward them, determined to make a good impression and trying not to look like I feel – which is scared out of my motherfucking mind.

"Billy, this is Edward," she says, wrapping her hand around my left bicep when I stop beside her.

"Mr. Black, it's a pleasure."

"Nice to _finally_ meet you, Edward," he remarks, looking pointedly at Bella. He returns his gaze to me and takes the hand I offer. His grip is strong and firm – and a little bit painful. I understand immediately that he's asserting his authority – and he's not gonna get any fucking argument from me. I have no intention of crossing him. "I was beginning to think Bella was either ashamed of you or ashamed of us. And I doubt it's us."

"Stop trying to intimidate him, Billy," a female voice orders from behind him. "And let go of his hand." The woman who was sitting with my mom and Leah moves to stand at Billy's side. She has warm, brown eyes and a wide smile. "I'm Sue."

"Bella's told me a lot about you, Mrs. Black," I respond, relieved that she seems to be friendlier than her husband. She bats away the hand I hold toward her, reaching to hug me instead.

"It's Sue," she corrects quietly, patting my back as I wrap one arm loosely around her in return. "Don't let Billy worry you. He's harmless."

When she lets me go, Bella slides her hand down from my upper arm, slipping her fingers between mine and squeezing reassuringly. She takes control of the conversation, talking about the bar and the remodel, both subjects she knows will be easy for me to comment on. It's been a long fucking time since I had to turn on the charm with a girl's parents, but it's not as hard as I thought it would be, especially with Sue. She seems genuinely interested and supportive. Billy, on the other hand, continues to eye me skeptically, looking unconvinced that I know what the hell I'm doing with my business – and my girl.

"Excuse me for interrupting," Rose says, butting her way into the group a few minutes later. She smiles sweetly at Billy before leveling me with her stare. "Edward, I'm holding that table like you asked." I raise one eyebrow at her because I don't know what the fuck she's talking about. She widens her eyes slightly and I realize I'm supposed to play along with whatever she's doing.

"Uh, okay," I nod.

I can tell by the look on her face that she wants to roll her eyes, but she holds back. "Bella and the Blacks could sit down while we get a round of drinks for everyone," she suggests, speaking slowly with her teeth clenched together.

"Oh. Um, yeah. Good idea."

My hesitant answer seems to irritate her even more. She huffs out a breath and narrows her eyes at me – so quickly that I'm probably the only one who notices. Then, smiling again, she turns to Bella, pointing out a spot near the pool table where my dad's already sitting. As Jake leads his parents away, Bella starts to follow, but I tighten my grasp on her fingers until she looks up at me.

"Save me a seat by you," I say, leaning down to speak lowly in her ear. She nods and kisses me, wrapping her other hand around my waist. When she hooks her fingers in the back pocket of my jeans, I smile against her lips. "Watch it, ballerina. I'm pretty sure Billy's just waiting for an excuse to kick my ass."

"I think I can handle Billy," she soothes. Then she uses the hand in my pocket to push my hips toward hers. "And I'm definitely going to handle you later."

"You're trying to kill me," I mutter, but I'm chuckling as we kiss once more. This time when she starts to pull away, I let her, shaking my head at her as she drags her hand slowly from my pocket and across my ass. Her eyes are shining, and the sight of her looking so happy just about stops my fucking heart. My gaze shifts to Sue and Billy, who are waiting for Bella a few feet away. Sue winks, but Billy is scowling at me again.

"Come on, baby bro," Rosalie urges, hooking her elbow through mine and yanking me toward the bar. "Don't push Papa Bear too far right out of the gate."

Luckily, Rose knows what Billy's drinking and fixes it while I squeeze two extra limes into my mom's gin and tonic and pull beers from the cooler for Bella and Leah.

"How'd you get an open table?" I ask, pausing to glance at her. "They were all full earlier and it's even more crowded up here now."

"Kicked your asshole poker buddies out of theirs," she answers without stopping what she's doing. "They're drinking on the house the rest of the night, by the way."

I turn all the way toward her and study her face for a second, realizing how badly she's trying to help me look good in front of the Blacks.

"Hey, Rose," I say quietly, waiting until she looks at me before I continue. "Thanks."

Unable to contain it any longer, she rolls her eyes at me, but smiles slightly and shrugs one shoulder. "You're welcome," she answers. "Just stop screwing up with her. Seriously."

I smirk like the asshole I am, but my reply is sincere. "I will," I nod. "Seriously."

* * *

An hour later, Billy and my dad have become fast friends and are playing pool, hustling guys who are thirty years younger – and much more inebriated – out of money, ten bucks at a time. Afraid that sooner or later one of the young drunks will get mad enough to fight, I'm keeping an eye on them. I'm also occasionally turning to glare at Josh. He's still sitting at the bar with Collin and Victoria, but he came over to say hi a little while ago and pissed me the hell off in the process. He kissed Bella's cheek like they were old friends, even though he was giving me shit about her last night. Now he's leering at her from his barstool. I sort of understand that; she's fucking beautiful. But he needs to get his douchebag tendencies under control.

"Hey," Jake says from across the table, leaning forward to speak to me. I lean in, too, so he doesn't have to yell. "How long are we going to be stuck with the estrogen club?"

Laughing, I shrug, sitting back. Emmett and Rose are still working and Jasper and Alice went downstairs to dance, so Jake and I are the only guys left at the table with our moms and girlfriends. And they're all fucking tipsy.

"Are we taking a cab home?" Bella asks, twisting sideways in her seat to look at me.

"No, ballerina. I'll be able to drive by the time we leave. I quit drinking an hour ago and I can't leave for at least another two," I inform her.

On my other side, my mom grabs my arm and I turn toward her. "Edward," she begins, her tone harsh enough that I know I'm in trouble for something, "why didn't you tell me the truth about Victoria? Rosalie told me how appalling her behavior has been. I would never have taken a picture of you with her if I'd known."

"Sorry, Mom," I grin. "I wasn't sure how to work into the conversation that my architect is rude to Bella and hits on me every time we're alone. I couldn't really introduce her as a bitch in slutty sheep's clothing."

My mom finds that hilarious – which is probably less about my smartass comment and more about the number of G&Ts she's consumed in the last couple of hours. I can't help laughing with her, though. And feeling a little bad about how shitty she's going to feel tomorrow.

Bella grabs my shoulder from behind, tugging until I lean back slightly. I feel a shiver run down my spine when her warm breath rushes into my ear.

"Let's take a cab, Edward," she whispers. "Remember last fall when you told me you're a dirty boy when you've been drinking? I want that."

Oh, shit. I groan quietly, tilting my head away as she giggles. Reaching for her hand, I hold it in mine as I swing around in the chair to face her. Gripping the back of her neck with my other hand, I hold her in place as I kiss her, hard and quick, before pulling back.

"Baby, do you know what you're doing to me?"

"Trying to kill you?" she asks playfully.

"You think this is funny, huh?" I lean toward her again, partly amused… and completely fucking aroused. I lower my voice so no one else can hear. "I wonder if you'll laugh when I throw you over my shoulder and haul your broken ass back to my office. I won't be gentle when I push you down on my desk–."

The hand that grips my shoulder and squeezes powerfully is accompanied by a stern voice. "Edward. Jake," Billy barks. Immediately, I release Bella and sit up straight. "You two think you can beat a couple of old guys at pool?"

"We'll give it a shot," Jake answers, pushing away from the table. I agree, too, realizing that Billy isn't going to let go of me until I do.

While my dad racks the balls on the table, Jake and I choose cue sticks from the holder on the wall and chalk the tips.

"Are you gonna make me throw the game?" he asks quietly, taking a sip of his beer.

"Will it help?" I ask. I pause to blow the excess chalk of the end of the cue stick. "I don't think your dad likes me."

"Of course he doesn't like you," Jake scoffs, looking at me like I'm a fucking idiot. "He treated Bella like his third kid even before Charlie died, but now he definitely considers her a daughter. And you're, you know, sleeping with her."

"It's not… she's not just…," I stammer. I'm not even sure what the fuck I'm trying to say.

"Relax. My dad will come around," he advises. "Just convince him you really care about her."

I frown at him, insulted because it sounds like he doubts my feelings for Bella. "I _do_ really care about her."

Jake laughs out loud. "No shit, Edward. I've known that since her birthday," he responds. "I mean, just the way you looked at her. Guys don't fake that shit, you know?"

Embarrassed, I turn away, mumbling to Jake that he can break. He does, and while we play, the talk – thank fucking God – is all about tomorrow's Super Bowl. I sip the tall Jack and Coke that Bella ordered for me and become the world's biggest kiss-ass, agreeing with every opinion Billy has about the big game and the best players. I try not to be too obvious as I miss shot after shot, but when I hit a difficult combo out of sheer pride, sinking two balls at once, I think my cover is blown.

After Jake purposely shorts the easy tap-in that would have won the game for us, he catches my eye across the table. "You owe me," he mouths, smiling.

Chuckling quietly, I cross my arms over my chest and nod. Billy wins the game on his next turn, and then he and my dad gloat obnoxiously for a couple of minutes. As I replace my cue stick in the holder, Billy approaches, handing me the other three cue sticks to put away.

"Nice game, Edward," he remarks. "Maybe we can play again someday."

"Sure, Mr. Black. Anytime"

"And maybe you'll actually try to win the next game."

Turning to look at him, I smile. "Yes, sir."

He glances toward the table where all the women are sitting and I follow his line of sight. My dad and Jake are seated there now, too. He sighs heavily before he speaks.

"It's such a relief to see Bella doing well," he says somberly. "She was so broken after Charlie died, and even when she was in Forks last fall. I was afraid she'd never bounce back."

"She's tougher than she looks," I remark, half-smiling as I watch her talk animatedly to my mom, waving her hands around while my mom nods and laughs.

"Yes, she is," Billy agrees, turning to pick up our drinks from the hi-top table beside him. He hands me my glass before he continues. "She's come a long way – starting her own business, meeting new people, making a life here. I'm very proud of her. And you seem to be good for her."

"Thank you, sir."

"Since Bella says you're sticking around, you might as well call me Billy," he says. Although he seems to be softening toward me, when he shifts his gaze to meet mine, his dark eyes hold a warning. "Charlie Swan was my best friend for over twenty years. His family is my family. Don't do anything to hurt her."

"I've screwed up some," I admit, afraid he's already been told exactly what a stupid asshole I've been. I take a drink, glancing down at the liquid in my glass for an instant.

"You're going to make it up to her?" he asks. I nod, looking him in the eye again. "You'll make an effort not to repeat those mistakes?"

"Yes, sir… Billy."

"Good," he nods, lifting his drink to his mouth and sipping it, "because I'm starting to like you, Edward. And if you break Bella's heart, my wife will kick your ass. Bella's not the only one who's tougher than she looks."

"Then I guess I'd better stay on both of their good sides," I offer with a smile.

"Smart move, kid," he confirms. When he reaches for my shoulder, I struggle not to flinch, expecting him to squeeze forcefully like he did earlier. But he pats my upper arm lightly instead. "You're going to do fine. Just keep our girl happy."

"Planning to," I mutter, glancing at Bella again. "I'm planning to."

* * *

After another hour, my parents and the Blacks leave. I ended up having a good time with them, but I really want Bella to myself for a while. Apparently, that's not in the fucking cards, though. First, Alice drags her to the ladies' room, and then they spend Rose's entire break huddled at the downstairs bar giggling – and doing shots. Just as I'm headed over to interrupt, Emmett swoops in out of nowhere and pulls Bella to the dance floor.

After watching him swing her around for two songs, I'm ready to break that shit up. I catch the eye of the band's lead singer and nod at him, letting him know I want him to play the song I requested earlier. Then I weave my way through the crowd on the dance floor. Emmett smiles when he sees me.

"Figured you'd show up sooner or later," he teases.

"Your break's over. Beat it," I order, smirking at him. He holds his hands up in surrender, and then – finally – I get my arms around my laughing girlfriend. Pulling her close, I kiss the side of her head and hold her right hand over my heart. "Hi, baby."

"Hi. Where have you… Edward!" she gasps, twisting to look at the band. She turns back toward me, smiling. "It's our song. Did you do this?" After I nod, she tugs on my neck until I bend down to kiss her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I murmur between kisses.

"And thank you for being so nice to Sue and Billy. Billy said you let him win at pool."

I chuckle, pulling back to look at her. "I was trying to make points."

"They liked you even without the points," she insists.

"Billy said he'd take me fishing sometime," I remark. "He doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with the fishes, right?"

"He's a contractor, not a mobster," she answers, amused.

"He's a fucking giant," I say, pleased when she laughs. "But I like him… them."

She leans into me, resting against my chest as we dance slowly for the rest of the song. When it's over, she looks up at me, twisting her fingers out of mine and slowly tracing them down my stomach. She grips the waistband of my jeans right above my dick and bites her lower lip for a second. "Edward, when can we go home?"

"Right now."

* * *

My fantasies about an erotic cab ride to the condo are left unfulfilled since Bella falls dead fucking asleep almost as soon as we leave the Full Moon. When the taxi stops in front of my building, I get her awake enough to walk on her own, but she yawns repeatedly on the way upstairs. She stands still and silent as I unzip her hoodie and slide it down her arms, pausing to kiss her shoulder.

"Go to bed, baby," I say lowly. She mumbles something about me. "I'll be right there. I'm just going to get water for us, okay?"

By the time I get to the bedroom a couple of minutes later, I expect her to be burrowed down in the bed, but she's not. Her boots and jeans are on the floor beside the corner chair and I can hear water running in the bathroom. Stopping in front of the dresser, I set down the bottled waters and start to empty my pockets, dropping everything carelessly on the wood. Cell phone. Change. Smokes. Wallet. Single, silver key.

As soon as I see it, I pick it up again, holding it in my hand the same way I did this morning when I found it… when I thought she'd left me. Jesus Christ. What the fuck was I thinking? Not telling her shit… the whole fucking mess with Aro, with Kate. I could have lost her. I sure as hell won't make that mistake again.

"What's that?" she asks, coming out of the bathroom.

"Your key," I answer. "I almost had a fucking heart attack when I woke up and found it. All your shit was gone and you wouldn't answer your phone. It scared the fuck out of me." I turn to watch her walk toward me, barefoot and bare-legged. She's washed off her makeup and put on one of my t-shirts. Fuck. I don't think she's ever looked sexier.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she whispers, wrapping her arms around me from behind. "I didn't think about how it would look to you."

"Well, I didn't think about how some of the stuff I did would look to you," I respond, setting the key down. I turn around to hug her. "I guess we both learned something."

She shifts around, standing on her tiptoes and pulling my face down. Her lips skim across my face. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you."

"I'm sorry, too," I say, settling my mouth against hers.

For several minutes, we kiss, our lips and tongues tangling unhurriedly together. I keep my hands still, even when I feel hers start working the buttons on the front of my shirt. She pulls away to push my shirt off.

"Bella, I… shit. I'm not good at saying stuff," I mutter, trying to think about how to say what I want to say. And trying _not _to think about the movement of her hand. She unbuckles my belt… pulls at the button on my jeans… lowers the zipper. Grabbing her hand, I move it away. Puzzled, she looks up at me with a frown. "Um, I didn't want this… want to feel like this."

"What?" She wrenches her hand out of mine and takes a step back. The hurt that settles on her face has me rushing to explain what I mean.

"I didn't think I wanted to love someone. And I was afraid that no one would ever love me." I step forward, reaching for her hands and looking down. "But then…"

"Then what?" she asks quietly after I leave the words hanging between us.

Raising my eyes to hers again, I swallow loudly. "Then I met you, ballerina. And I wanted everything… with you."

"Edward," she whispers.

When I bend down to kiss her this time, our lips connect urgently. After a minute, I let go of one of her hands, groaning as she immediately slides it into my boxers and wraps her fingers around me. I push one hand up her shirt, cupping her bare skin and using my thumb to glide over and around her nipple.

When she whimpers, we both pull back, opening our eyes and coming to a silent agreement. We let each other go and get rid of our own clothes quickly, and then press our bodies together as we kiss again. By the time I pick her up and walk toward the bed, I'm fucking aching to be inside her.

"How's your broken ass?" I say against her lips.

"You tell me," she answers teasingly. "You're the one with your hands on it."

"It _feels_ fine," I reply. "But I don't want to hurt you."

"Then I'll be on top," she decides, burying her hands in my hair and kissing me again.

I'm not sure how we get on the bed without breaking apart, but we do. I lie back, pulling her with me. She rocks her hips against mine until I can't fucking breathe and have to twist my head away, watching as she sits up.

"Bella," I breathe as she lifts up on her knees, positioning me and slowly taking me inside. When she's lowered herself all the way, she hums in pleasure. I can't take my eyes off her face. Her perfect lips fall open for an instant before she rolls them together. She's fucking killing me by sitting still, but it feels so goddamned good that I don't ask her to start moving yet.

Looking down at me, she lets her hands fall to my ribs, dragging her short, smooth nails down toward where we're joined. I slide my hands to her thighs, holding her in place.

"Fuck," I groan, bucking my hips under her. "Baby, please."

Immediately, she raises up, and then sinks down again. She continues moving slowly on me and I can't help but let my eyes fall, watching as my dick disappears inside her again and again. When she digs her fingernails into the skin on each side of my waist, my eyes shoot back to her face.

"I'm so in love with you," she whispers, staring at me.

"Jesus, ballerina. You're fucking beautiful." My voice is hoarse and strained. "I love you."

Moving one hand to her clit, I use my thumb to rub slow, deliberate circles until she whimpers again, and then skim the back of my hand up her stomach. I raise my other hand and cup both of her breasts, rolling her nipples gently while she continues to torture me.

Wanting more of her skin, I sit up, driving myself even deeper into her. Wrapping my arms tightly around her, I hold her still her as I press my lips to hers. I kiss her passionately, sliding my tongue into her mouth. After a moment, I loosen my hold and she lifts and lowers herself again.

"Edward… oh, my God," she whispers, increasing her pace.

"You need help, baby?"

"No… no," she pants.

I want to watch her, but she clutches my shoulders, holding me close. So I settle my mouth on her neck, sucking strongly enough to leave a mark. Her hard nipples graze my chest, and I reach down to cup her ass, moving her more forcefully as I groan into her neck. Christ, she feels good. I'm so fucking close that I'm afraid I won't be able to wait for her, and when she cries out, I don't try to hold back any longer.

She rides me through her orgasm and mine, finally slowing, shuddering in my arms. Once the aftershocks are all gone, we sit intertwined for several minutes, unmoving… silent except for our heavy breathing. My lips tingle from the pulse racing just under the skin of her neck, and I press soft kisses there over and over.

Alarmed when I hear her sniffle, I lift my head to look at her.

"You okay, ballerina?" I ask. Reaching one hand to her face, I push her hair from her sweaty forehead, and then cradle her jaw gently. She doesn't look like she's going to cry, but she sniffs again.

"Yeah," she answers, leaning in to kiss me. She takes a deep breath as she looks at me again. "I'm giving my notice at the law office as soon as the building sale is final. I don't want to do it before then because I'm afraid Aro will back out just to spite us." She talks fast, like she's afraid I'm gonna be mad or argue with her.

"Okay," I nod.

"Okay? That's all you're going to say?"

"Well, obviously, I'd like it better if you didn't work another day for the bastard, but if you'll really quit in two weeks, then okay."

"Thank you, Edward." She hugs me tightly again.

"Will you let me take you to lunch everyday? Just so he knows that I'm around. I won't let him hurt you."

"Okay."

"Jesus Christ. We were so stupid," I laugh, resting my lips against her shoulder. "This compromising shit is fucking easy."

She chuckles, too, and I hold her close as I lie back, keeping her body sprawled on top of mine. She shifts around to lay her head on my chest as I trail my fingers up and down her spine.

"Can I have my key to your condo back?" she whispers.

"Of course, baby. I want you here," I answer. Surprised, I inhale sharply at the sudden urge I have to ask her to move in. I mean, it makes fucking sense. We never stay apart anymore, so we're constantly figuring out where we're sleeping and carrying shit around in overnight bags. But this isn't the kind of decision I should make when I'm tired and a little impaired by alcohol and sex. Instead, I keep quiet, vowing to think about it… talk to her about it when the time is right.

"Want me to move?" she asks, yawning.

"Huh?" I ask. Did she read my fucking mind?

"Off you. Want me to move off you? I'm about to fall asleep," she mumbles.

"No," I respond, kissing the top of her head. "Unless you want to burrow down in the covers like you usually do."

"Huh uh. Wanna stay here."

Hanging on to her with one arm, I reach for the sheet with my other arm and one leg. It's a struggle to get us covered up, and Bella is no fucking help since she really did fall asleep. Once we're settled, she sighs against my chest, making me chuckle and hold her more tightly for a second.

"Night, ballerina."

* * *

For the next ten days, my life is practically fucking perfect. The bar has been busy almost every night. My girl is happy, which means I'm happy. Hell, even Rose is more agreeable than normal. And in three days, the purchase of Bella's building will be complete and she'll finally be free of Aro.

That knowledge almost – _almost_ – makes it possible for me to speak civilly to the son of a bitch when he comes through the Full Moon's side door early on a Tuesday morning. After seeing his reflection in the back bar mirror, I finish stacking the clean glasses and turn around to face him.

"What's the occasion, Volturi?" I ask, gritting my teeth as my stomach somersaults nervously. Christ, I hope he's not here to back out of the fucking deal. Bella's been trying to act nonchalant about it, but she'll be disappointed if this whole thing falls through. "Bar's not open for another two hours."

"I can tell time, Cullen," he retorts, sitting down at the bar in front of me.

"Then what the fuck are you doing in my bar?"

Crossing my arms over my chest, I study his appearance. He's got dark circles under his eyes and the skin around his mouth is drawn tight. Instead of being flawlessly dressed in an expensive Italian suit, he's wearing jeans and a wrinkled shirt. Something has him on edge.

"It's _my_ building," he reminds me tersely.

"True," I nod. "But, according to the terms of my lease, you don't have the right to enter at will unless I don't pay my rent."

"Look, Cullen, I'll cut to the chase." Now I know something's fucking wrong with him. He didn't bite on that at all – didn't even bother to point out that my fucking door was unlocked.

"Thanks for the favor."

"Can we move the closing date up to Wednesday?"

"You want to close tomorrow?" I ask, frowning.

"Are you having a problem understanding me?" he replies haughtily. He's trying to act cocky, but his eyes are wild, roving the bar as if he's afraid someone might be eavesdropping. I'm sure he noticed that my car is the only one parked outside, though. He picks up a cardboard coaster, tapping it impatiently on the bar. "I know how anxious you are to have control of that property."

"You have no idea," I remark lowly, hoping he understands my meaning. My mind is racing, running through possible scenarios – wondering if I can get what I want from him. I need to talk to Bella, though. I need to know how she feels about this… and see if she knows what's going on with Aro. "I'll have to see if everything can be ready that quickly."

"I thought you were paying cash," he sneers.

"I am, but the money isn't converted from investments to cash yet. I'll have to see if it can be done in a day," I advise. "And the new insurance on the building doesn't kick in until Friday, so I'll have to call the agent about that, too."

"Well, can you get back to me in a couple of hours? I really need to know."

"I'll let you know." He mumbles something under his breath, slides off the stool and exits without another word to me.

I watch through the window as he gets in his car and drives out of the lot. Then I pick up my phone and call Bella's cell. When she picks up, I don't waste a second, unsure if Aro is headed toward his office.

"Hey, baby," I say softly. "What the hell's going on with your boss?"


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: So, I could give you a list of true yet crappy reasons why my update "schedule" is the way it is. But it can be condensed to work, kids, husband. I realize it sucks. I totally understand if you flounce or want to wait until the story is complete to read it. But I can promise that it will be completed. I'm not fast, but I am a finisher. :)**

**That said, it's been a little nutty at my house with (gosh, I can't believe how long it's been since I updated) 8th grade graduation for my twins, crazy summer at work, and now two high schoolers who (happily) have very active social calendars, but (unhappily) volunteer me to drive them and their little posse everywhere. And since they know how to play the guilt card, they usually win. The baby is in middle school and is still the funniest kid I know. He's also inexplicably turned away from his Demon ways, a fact I'm afraid to speak about too much for fear it will break whatever spell he's fallen under.**

**Big thanks to my friend/beta, Littlecat358, for her enormous help getting this chap polished up. She always takes time to help me, no matter how busy she is - and she's _really_ busy right now! :) Thanks, LC. xoxo**

**If you're still reading, thanks for not giving up on the story. I truly appreciate it. xoxo**

* * *

**BPOV**

"What's going on with my _boss_?" Repeating Edward's question into my phone, I frown in confusion. "What makes you think something's going on with Aro?"

"He was just here. He wants to move the closing on your building up to tomorrow," he replies. "And he was jumpy as fuck."

My stomach lurches like I've just crested the hill of a roller coaster, and I press my hand against it, trying to suppress the sudden queasiness. Turning my head to the right, I look into Aro's dark, empty office. He's hardly been here lately, and I suddenly realize that instead of being relieved by that fact, maybe I should have been suspicious.

"You think he's weaseling out of the deal?" Although I try to keep my voice normal, my mouth won't move quite right. I end up mumbling the words… and sounding as nervous as I feel.

"I don't know, baby."

Afraid that everything Edward and I have planned on for the last ten days is slipping away, I grasp at any other explanation for his behavior. "He likes to jerk us around," I offer quietly, still mush-mouthed. "He's probably just being an asshole – as usual."

As I'm talking, my eyes land on Jessica's vacant desk. When I got back from lunch yesterday, she was crying, muttering about Aro coming in and yelling at her while I was gone. Knowing how vicious he can be, I tried to console her, but eventually suggested she go home for the afternoon since she couldn't calm down. She did – and she hasn't shown up or called yet this morning, even though she should have been here almost two hours ago.

"Probably," Edward agrees. As I'm about to mention Jessica's absence to him, I hear someone call his name on his end of the line. "Shit, ballerina. I gotta go. The beer truck's here."

"Okay," I respond, deciding the Jessica story can wait until later. "I'll see you at lunch?"

"Uh, of course," he answers distractedly, holding the phone away from his mouth to greet the delivery guy. Not wanting to keep him, I say goodbye, but he stops me from hanging up. "Hey, wait."

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry about Aro. I'm sure he's just fucking with me," he soothes, but I don't think he believes that any more than I do. He drops his voice to a whisper. "I love you."

Even though he's said the words every day for the last couple of weeks, his hushed declaration still makes my heart to skip a beat. I smile slightly as I picture him speaking quietly into his phone so the beer man can't overhear.

"I love you, too," I answer. "Bye."

After I set my phone down, I stare at Jessica's desk for several more minutes, wishing I had asked her more questions yesterday about Aro's behavior. I've never seen Aro visibly nervous or skittish the way Edward described; he's always cool and cocky. But now I wonder what he was like when he came in… I wonder what he said that made Jessica so upset… and I wonder where he is now.

On edge, I jump when the office phone rings and swallow nervously before I answer, hoping I don't hear Aro's voice come through the receiver. Fortunately, it's not him, but the caller has to repeat his name and number three times while I try to write down a message.

"Got it, Agent Morris. May I tell Mr. Volturi which case this is regarding?" I ask, breathing rapidly into the phone.

"He knows. We've spoken before." His answer is clipped, his tone somewhere between brusque and outright rude. But not wanting to make any enemies at the DEA or the FDA or whatever agency the man is an employee of, I'm extra polite as we hang up.

Turning toward my computer screen, I email the message to Aro. Then, still wondering where he is today, I log into his calendar, expecting this week to open in all its daily, color-coded glory. Instead, the schedule for the rest of the week is blank – white except for the black-outlined time slots. No orange court dates. No green appointments. No purple brief filings. Mouth gaping, my stomach begins to churn again as I skip to next week. And the week after. And the week after that. His whole calendar, which was crowded and bright only yesterday when I looked at it, is empty.

"What the hell?" I whisper, my heart racing.

Edward's first instinct was right; there has to be something going on. And whatever it is, I'm afraid it's going to mean trouble for Edward and me. Intending to call him and tell him what I've found, I pick up my phone, but quickly change my mind; alarm bells are ringing in my head and, for once, I'm going to listen to my gut reaction and get out of here.

With a shaking hand, I grab my coffee cup and stand, moving so jerkily that my chair rolls backward to the edge of the plastic mat and tips over onto the carpet. I spare it a glance, but don't stop to set it upright again. Rushing to the kitchen, I switch off the coffee pot, dump the contents of both my mug and the carafe down the sink, and then turn on the water to rinse them. In my haste, the carafe slips from my hand and lands in the porcelain sink, shattering as I try to catch it.

"Ouch! Shit!" I cry out when a shard of glass slices across two fingers of my left hand, sending blood dripping into the sink.

Switching the warm water to cool, I hold my hand under the faucet and watch the red-tinged stream run toward the drain, not surprised by the rippling wave of nausea that follows. The sight of blood usually has that effect on me. As beads of sweat break out across my nose and upper lip, I bend forward, resting my elbows on the edge of the counter.

After a moment, the lightheaded feeling subsides enough for me stand up again. I turn the faucet off, and then stand on my tiptoes to reach the folded paper towels on the shelf above the sink. Startled by the sound of hard-soled shoes on the linoleum floor behind me, I freeze, poised on the balls of my feet with my right arm in the air. I'm afraid I know exactly who's wearing those shoes.

"You know, Isabella, I once heard that a dancer's legs are powerful enough to squeeze the life right out of a man," Aro murmurs, confirming my fear. His footsteps are slow and deliberate as he advances across the floor. "Yours certainly look capable of doing just that."

Lowering myself to stand flat-footed again, I close my eyes briefly, knowing I need to stay calm and level-headed despite the ice-cold panic flooding my veins. When I open them again, I pat my hands dry, and then fold a second paper towel into a narrow strip, wrapping it around my throbbing fingers. Gingerly, I use my right hand to apply pressure to the cuts, watching a dark stain appear on my makeshift bandage. In spite of his comment about the strength of my legs, they feel shaky and weak right now, and I take a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever is coming.

Stopping right behind me, he peers over my shoulder. "You've injured yourself," he observes, stating the obvious. "Not too badly, I hope."

"I'm fine."

"Excellent news… because I believe an opportunity has presented itself with just the two of us in the office today. If you'd care to negotiate, I'm certain we could reach a deal for Cullen to buy both of the buildings he wants." Although this is the basic path I expected this conversation to take, his statement causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. As I fight not to outwardly react, my heart beats in double-time and I shudder when he leans against my back, clamping his hands around my upper arms. "You have the power to give him everything he desires. All you have to do is wrap those strong legs around me, Isabella."

Revulsion surges through my body, rejecting both the idea and the imagery of Aro's proposition. I flinch as my stomach cramps up, and I use every shred of my self-control not to vomit into the sink.

"I wouldn't want to hurt you." Praying it will buy me the time I need to think, I draw the words out and lift my intonation. If his enormous ego is still unchecked, he'll perceive my answer as flirtatious, presuming that all his lies and manipulations have finally worn down my resistance.

"There's an easy solution for that dilemma," he replies smoothly. He slides his left hand down my arm, closing his fingers around my wrist. While my mind races, searching for a solution to _this _dilemma, I let him move my arm. He wraps it across my waist, using both of our arms to hold me in place against his chest. He skims his other hand down the right side of my body, and then back up to cup my breast. "You do your best and I'll tell you _exactly_ how good it feels."

Without moving my head, I lower my eyes and watch Aro's stubby fingers fondle my flesh. Boiling with anger, I curl my right hand into a fist, bend my arm and swing it back as hard as I can, feeling the resistance as my elbow jams into his ribs. He grunts, stumbling a step to the left.

"Did that feel good?" I seethe as I try to pull away. Although he releases my breast, he tightens his grip on my trapped wrist and yanks ruthlessly, spinning me around to face him.

When I see his right hand coming toward my face, I squeeze my eyes shut, assuming he's going to hit me. Instead, he grabs a handful of my hair, digging his fingers into my scalp and pulling viciously. My eyes pop open as pain shoots along my skin and down my spine. Gasping, my mouth hangs open and I involuntarily step closer to him to lessen the pressure.

"Do you think I'd be so careless as to leave a mark on your face, Isabella?"

"N-no," I stammer, tears springing to my eyes.

"This way it's your word against mine. But you're smart enough to know that, aren't you?" he snarls, bending down so that we're nose-to-nose. "Never underestimate your opponent."

With one arm immobilized, I raise my other hand to Aro's chest, trying to push him away. My efforts have no effect, though, except to make him chuckle snidely.

"Let me go, Aro. I won't tell anyone."

My statement seems to make him angrier. Rearing back, his nostrils flare and he tugs my wrist again, drawing my arm down diagonally across my body as I struggle to get loose. Another burst of pain shoots through me when he squeezes firmly, making me cry out. Using his leverage, he moves us several steps to my left, shoving me back against the refrigerator.

Panting, really looking at him for the first time, I'm shocked by his appearance. His shirt is dirty and wrinkled. His hair hangs loose around his face, not slicked back in his normal style. As he breathes into my face, I smell a mixture of coffee and alcohol.

"Actually, I think maybe this time you _should_ tell Cullen. I'd gladly take a beating from him to ensure that he spends some time locked up."

"No! No! Please." The plea springs from my lips automatically, without thought. My only concern is protecting Edward. Closing my eyes, I remember the way he smiled at me this morning when he kissed me goodbye in his kitchen. Was that only three hours ago? I know what I need to do… and I'm devastated that it will hurt him. With my heart in my throat, I meet Aro's beady-eyed gaze and tell him what he wants to hear – that he wins. "I'll do it. I'll do what you want. Just leave Edward alone."

"No more bluffing, Isabella," he spits, literally. I'm disgusted, but I don't want to shift his focus by wiping my face. What I'm planning to do will either work… or really piss him off. And if it isn't successful, I know what will likely happen to me. "No one's coming to rescue you today."

Holding my wrist tightly, he twists my arm until I beg him to stop, and then slides his hand to my wrapped fingers, gripping the wounded area cruelly. The resulting flash of white-hot pain steals my breath, silencing my voice. Inside, terror and fury combine with pure adrenaline. Without second-guessing myself – without looking down to perfect my aim – I raise my knee as quickly as I can, ramming the soft tissue of his balls with all the force I can muster.

At first, I worry that I've failed because he doesn't move, but then his eyes widen, he inhales with a hiss, and he lets me go, bending forward to cup himself. Blinded by tears, I punch with my right fist and connect solidly with his cheek and nose. As he falls to his knees, I back away from him, edging toward the doorway.

"Never underestimate your opponent, Aro." Throwing his unsolicited advice back in his face, I wish my voice was stronger, wish I was speaking through clenched teeth instead of broken sobs. "Go to hell, asshole."

He coughs loudly, looking up at me. Swallowing, I try to ignore the blood seeping from one of his nostrils. "Fuck you, you little bitch. Tell your boyfriend the deal's off. I won't sell him either one of those buildings."

"We don't want anything that belongs to you," I state, hoping that Edward will feel the same when I tell him what I've done. Growing braver with each step I take away from Aro, I lift my chin, glaring down at him. "Just so we're clear, I'd never wrap _anything _of mine around you… and I quit."

Unsure how long he'll be incapable of giving chase, I rush to my desk to grab my phone and purse. At the door, I flip the deadbolt, fresh fear filling my chest when I realize that Aro had locked us in just like he did at my studio two weeks ago. I don't pause to look behind me as I yank the door open and race outside to my truck, driving out of the parking lot as quickly as I can.

Finally, stopped at a red light almost two miles away from the law firm, I think it's safe to call Edward. When he answers, I try to talk, but have trouble speaking around the lump in my throat.

"What's wrong, baby? Are you okay?"

"Aro," I choke. Looking down, I see several dark red stains on my blouse. Dried blood is smeared on my hands and the steering wheel, the sight of it turning my stomach. I don't know if I'm talking to him or myself when I continue. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"Fuck. Are you at the office? I'll be right there." He sounds like he's starting to panic, so I swallow and try to speak coherently.

"No. Coming there," I say, pausing to take a deep breath. "Five minutes."

"All right. Hang up and drive."

* * *

When I pull into the parking lot, Edward is leaning against the outside wall of the Full Moon, smoking. Although I'm relieved to see him, I'm also nervous. Puffing my cheeks out, I exhale slowly. How mad will he be at Aro? Mad enough to do something drastic? And how angry will he be with _me _for totally blowing his chance to buy the buildings? He flicks the cigarette to the ground, walking toward my truck and opening the driver's door as soon as I stop next to his car.

"Jesus Christ, ballerina!" he exclaims while I set the brake. "What the fuck did he do to you?"

His harsh demand is offset by the way he reaches for my face, cradling my jaw tenderly when I turn sideways on the seat to face him. As soon as I look into his worried green eyes, tears pool in mine.

"He… and I… I was so scared," I stammer. Shivering from the cold – or maybe the residual fear – I suddenly realize that I left my coat at work. Edward shrugs out of his leather jacket and puts it around my shoulders as I mumble a thank you.

"Whose blood is all over you?"

"Mine," I answer quietly, looking down at my hands. For once, my stomach doesn't react. Maybe I'm becoming accustomed to the blood – or to the constant nausea. "I cut myself, and then Aro came in. He's not gonna sell you either of the buildings. And I'm gonna get arrested." Edward huffs in disbelief, pissing me off. Snapping my head back, I stare icily at him. "I'm not joking, Edward."

"Sorry, baby," he says softly. He wraps his arm under my knees to shift my legs to one side, and then steps closer to hug me. I bury my face in his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt with my uninjured hand. "How about giving me the unabridged version of what happened?"

Although I hear his heart pounding under my ear, he remains quiet while I tell him everything I remember. His back arches slightly when I describe how Aro touched me and the physical fight that followed, but he doesn't interrupt, only tightening his arms around me and pressing his lips against the top of my head.

When I finish, I exhale loudly. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"You just spent all that money on the remodel and now it's my fault that Aro–."

"None of this is your fault, and I don't give two fucks about the money," he interrupts, pulling back to look at me. I recognize the fear in his eyes, the emotion in his gruff voice. "When you called… Jesus, Bella. Waiting for you to get here was the longest five minutes of my life."

I reach up, curling my right hand around his neck and tugging until he bends down to rest his forehead against mine. We hold still for a moment, breathing, comforting each other. Then, pressing my lips to his, I murmur his name, whisper that I love him. He doesn't answer me out loud, but he moves his mouth with mine, kissing me urgently until he moans and pulls away.

"Always trying to fucking kill me," he teases, knowing that will make me smile, and it does – a little. Leaning down for one more kiss, he takes my left hand and holds it up to examine it. "We need to get these cuts cleaned and bandaged. He did this to your wrist?"

Studying the purple marks on my skin, I shrug. "I guess."

"Fucking asshole," he mutters. He keeps his voice low, but I can hear the anger under the surface. "You need to call Claire, ballerina."

I nod when he raises his gaze to meet mine. Back to reality – the reality where I may need a lawyer, may be charged with assault. Just like Aro said, it would be his word against mine.

Afraid he'll see the distress on my face, I cover by twisting away from him to check my reflection in the rearview mirror. He chuckles once in amusement while I try to wipe away the mascara smudged under both of my eyes.

"You look fine, baby."

"I'm a total mess."

"You're beautiful," he contends, wrapping his hands around my outer thighs. I turn to roll my eyes at him, but his are downcast. I hear him swallow before he speaks again. "Bella, I'm so fucking sorry that I didn't protect you today."

"Edward," I object, gripping his arm with my right hand.

"I should have known that he would head straight for you."

"How could either of us have guessed that? He was hardly around last week. And you didn't know I was alone at the office."

"Goddammit, Bella. Quit making excuses for me," he fumes through gritted teeth, glaring at me with fiery eyes. Wrenching his arm from my grasp, he scrubs his hands roughly across his face. "I'm trying not to fucking explode here, but I want to hunt the bastard down for saying that shit to you, for having the fucking nerve to put his hands on you."

"You can't, Edward. _Please_," I beg, remembering the way Aro delighted in the idea of Edward being locked up. "It'll just make things worse if you go after him."

A gust of cold wind ruffles his hair and causes goose bumps to erupt on my bare legs. He drops his hands, resting them on my knees. The sides of his jaw twitch several times before he opens his eyes and looks at me. "I don't want to fight. Let's go inside. It's fucking freezing out here."

Nodding mutely, I pick up my purse and get out of the truck, walking beside him toward the side door of the bar. He holds it open for me, placing his hand on my lower back as I pass. Inside, several televisions are turned on to sports channels and classic rock music is playing over the sound system, but the bar is empty. After suggesting I go wash my hands, Edward takes his coat and my purse while I go into the bathroom. When I come back out, Emmett is walking down the steps from the second floor.

"Hey, Tiny," he greets, waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Punched my boss. Quit my job."

"You hit Volturi?" he asks, eyebrows raised. He holds his fist toward me when I nod, and I bump it lightly with mine. "Sweet. He's a douche. You all right?" He points to the blood stains on my clothes, looking concerned.

"Yeah, it's just a cut," I answer, turning to walk toward where Edward is sitting at the bar. "I'll go to the studio and change in a minute."

"The fuck you will," Edward declares. He doesn't look our way as he continues rummaging through the first aid box. "You're not going over there alone."

"I wasn't planning to," I retort, irritated by his assumption that I haven't learned anything from what happened this morning – and by his bossiness. "I'll take Emmett with me."

"Bella."

"Edward." I mimic his heavy sigh and exasperated tone, making Emmett snicker quietly.

"Cut him some slack, Tiny." Leaning down, he whispers his advice as I veer away to sit down on the barstool next to Edward's. I pick up the bottle of ibuprofen Edward pushes my way and pour two pills into my hand. Behind the bar, Emmett fills a glass with ice water and sets it in front of me. "Can I go get your stuff from next door while E patches you up?"

After I swallow the pills, I nod sheepishly, embarrassed by my immature outburst. He holds his hand across the bar for my keys, but I'm not sure where Edward put my things when we came inside.

"Here. There's a key to her place on my keychain," Edward mutters, pulling them from his front pocket. He glances at Emmett as he tosses the keys across the bar.

"I'll be right back. The cooks are in the kitchen, so you two keep it clean," Emmett teases, whistling as he walks toward the side door.

"You have a key to the studio on your keychain?" I ask, placing my left hand on the towel Edward laid out on the bar top. His fingers are gentle as he spreads antibiotic cream on the cuts.

"Yep. When Aro locked himself in with you, I had to use the key you gave Rosalie to get inside. I kept it." He pauses to look up at me. "I told you that."

"Oh, right." We're quiet as he puts small butterfly bandages across the cuts to pull the broken skin back together. Watching him, I recall how he comforted me on that day so long ago when Aro first propositioned me. Warmth blooms in my chest at the memory of wearing his hoodie for the first time, being kissed by him for the second time… and knowing that I was falling hard and fast. I spin my stool toward him. "We're sitting in the same spot we did last fall when I came here after Aro kissed me. Remember?"

"I remember," he answers quietly, still bent over my injured fingers. "We were sitting one stool farther to the left that day, though."

Smiling slightly, I lift my right hand to his shoulder and slide it toward his neck. With the lightest touch, I trace my fingers over the three moles just above the neck of his shirt; it's one of my favorite places to kiss. He shrugs his shoulder when I hit a ticklish spot and his lips curl upward a bit at the corners.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Turning his head, he looks at me, and then raises up to peck my lips. "We're both a little rattled right now, baby. I'm sorry for snapping at you, too." He finishes bandaging my fingers, and then closes the lid of the first aid kit. Swiveling his stool to face me, he traps my knees between his. "What do you want to do now?"

"This." Standing up from my stool, I wind my arms around his shoulders, shutting my eyes when he pulls me close. Completely wrapped in him, I feel my tension melt away a little more with each silent breath.

After a moment, I open my eyes and see Emmett through the window. He's walking back across the parking lot with the duffle bag I asked him to get, his cell phone pressed against his ear. When I tell Edward, he groans, holding me more tightly.

"Shit. I bet he's calling Rosalie. And Rosalie will call Mom," he grumbles. "Neither one of them can keep their fucking mouths shut about anything."

"They would have found out anyway," I reason.

"Yeah, but now my mom's gonna fucking show up here in twenty minutes to check on you," he replies. Although he sounds grumpy, I know he likes it when his mom stops by – and he knows how much it means to me that she cares about me, too. "You know they won't leave us alone all afternoon, ballerina. So if you're gonna kiss me, you'd better do it now."

For the first time since early this morning, I laugh out loud, leaning back to look in his shining, green eyes. Realizing he's trying to make me feel better, I slide my right hand into the hair at the nape of his neck… and then I follow his advice.

* * *

When Alice arrives several hours later, we walk to the studio together. As we warm up in the smaller dance room, I tell her what happened with Aro. She hugs me, soothes me – and doesn't say she told me so, although I know she will eventually.

While I'm running through a turn sequence, we hear someone knock at the door, but it's too early for students to arrive.

"It's probably Rosalie," I call as Alice walks out to answer it. "She said she was coming over."

Switching to my weaker leg, I prep, pirouette, and then begin turning à la seconde. I've made four revolutions when I spot Alice and two men in the doorway behind me. Falling out of my turn, I stumble as I look at their sober faces in the mirror.

"B, these men are here to see you," Alice says, her voice more high-pitched than normal.

Swallowing nervously, I nod. Walking to the rear of the room, I'm self-conscious about being dressed in booty shorts and a tank top, but I try to look confident as I approach Alice and the two suit-wearing visitors.

"Miss Swan?" suit number one asks, showing me his badge after I confirm my identity. "I'm Lieutenant Murphy, Seattle PD. This is Detective Green. We'd like for you to come down to the station and answer a few questions."

Fear grips my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. Inhaling rapidly, I instantly regret not leaving Claire a detailed message on her cell phone or sending her an email when I couldn't get in touch with her earlier this afternoon. Fucking Aro. This is just like him, having me hauled in when he's harassed me for months. He knows I was only defending myself this morning.

"Can't we just talk here?" I plead. I'm afraid if I let them take me downtown, I'll never get out.

"No, miss. We'll need you to come downtown."

"Okay," I mumble, understanding that refusal isn't an option. "Um, can I have a sec to get dressed?"

They agree, but follow me back to the office, searching the pockets of my hoodie and sweats before I go into the bathroom to put them on. When I pick up my purse, Lieutenant Murphy asks to look through it. Once he has, he zips it closed, but he doesn't give it back, advising that he'll hold it during the drive to the station.

"My classes," I say, turning toward Alice while Detective Green holds the front door open for me.

"I'll handle it. And I'll go tell Edward."

I nod as our eyes meet, both filled with tears. "Ask him to call Claire."

* * *

Anxious and cold, I sit alone at the table in the interview room. My legs bounce uncontrollably. My arms are crossed over my stomach, hands pushed inside the opposite sleeves of my hoodie, trying to get warm. I haven't taken even a sip from the cup of tap water Lieutenant Murphy brought me after I declined to answer any questions without my lawyer. Since I'm not wearing a watch, I don't know how long I've been in here. Realistically, it's probably only been about an hour since I got into the backseat of the unmarked sedan, but it seems like much longer.

Looking around the room again, I study the bare, beige walls. In one corner, a video camera is mounted near the ceiling, pointed directly at me. I stare at the red light over the lens, counting the number of times it blinks until I reach three hundred. Then I lower my eyes, deciding that if the police are watching me, I undoubtedly look either defiant or crazy.

Although I'm reluctant to relive the events of this morning, I go over them in my head several times, memorizing every detail I think may be important. And I worry – about what will happen in here, what's happening at the studio, where Edward is. Lost in thought, I jump when the door opens and Claire walks in, followed by the men who drove me here. Claire winks as she sits down beside me, but it doesn't calm my jitters much.

"Gentlemen, I presume you have a good reason for hauling my client down here this evening," she begins as they settle in across the table from us.

"We have some questions to ask Miss Swan in conjunction with her employment at the law firm of Aro Volturi," Lieutenant Murphy answers. Shifting around in the uncomfortable chair, I scoot closer to the table and fold my hands on top of it. He asks a series of mundane questions: my name, address, work and personal history since moving to Seattle. Claire lets me answer, but becomes increasingly frustrated when they don't get to the point of this interrogation.

"This is biographical information, guys. In fact, I'm sure you knew the answers to most of these questions before you asked," she argues. "Quit wasting my client's time. Either ask the questions you brought her here to answer or let her go."

"Fine," Lieutenant Murphy allows, leaning back in his chair. "Miss Swan, it appears a very serious crime has occurred."

A very serious crime? How much trouble can I be in for hitting one asshole?

"A search warrant was executed at Aro Volturi's law office three hours ago. We've taken possession of various files and all the computers from the office," Detective Green advises curtly. "Do you know what a client trust account is?"

"Yes, it's the account where settlement and escrow money is held until it's paid to the clients."

"If you have any pertinent information to offer about your involvement with the client trust account, now is the time to come out with it."

Frowning, confused, the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them – and before Claire can stop me. "What does this have to do with me punching Aro today?"

Claire's hand clamps on my forearm, silencing me immediately, but Detective Green looks just as baffled as I am.

"I don't have any information about a physical altercation." He leans forward, putting his elbows on the table and locking his gaze with mine. "Have you ever handled the funds in Volturi's client trust account?"

"No, I haven't." From the corner of my eye, I see Claire turn to look at me, and her fingers tighten around my arm.

"Miss Swan, we have substantial evidence that funds have been misappropriated from that account," Lieutenant Murphy interjects, sitting up straight again. "And we believe some of that money may be in your possession."

"What?" I breathe.

"Can you explain why you deposited three-quarters of a million dollars in a bank in Forks during the same month that you began working for Aro Volturi?" he inquires, his voice gaining volume. It isn't necessary for him to talk so loudly; I'm already pretty intimidated. Before I can answer, he pulls a sheet of paper from the file folder he brought into the room with him, sliding it across the table to me. Looking down, my mouth drops open when I realize it's my trust fund statement.

"This is… this money… it's mine," I mumble.

"It's quite a coincidence that you have a lot of money hidden away in a small-town bank," Detective Green muses, "and at the same time, more than five million dollars is missing from Aro Volturi's client trust account."

"Five _million_ dollars?" I gasp, my eyes darting to Murphy's face. Turning to Claire, I shake my head. "I thought I was in trouble because I knocked the crap out of Aro earlier today."

"Gentlemen, I'd like a few minutes alone with my client," Claire says, remaining composed despite my skyrocketing alarm. She waits until they leave the room before she turns to fully face me. "Bella, level with me. Do you know anything about the money?"

"No! No," I insist, grateful that I didn't handle any of the firm's money. It was only Aro… and Jessica. "Oh, my God. Aro must have known about the investigation. That's why he was acting so weird. He must have suspected he was going to be caught."

Struggling to organize my jumbled thoughts, I explain to Claire what's been going on with Aro and what happened today, showing her the bruising on my left wrist. We discuss my duties at work and who handles the firm's finances. I tell her about my dad's accident and the money I received several months after his death. She coaches me a little on how to answer the questions she thinks they'll ask, and then grabs my right hand.

"I gave you some latitude to answer the detectives before because I thought your reaction clearly demonstrated your innocence. I'll continue that if you're comfortable with it, but I won't let you veer too far off course. If I grab your arm again, it's time for you to clam up. Got it?" Once I assure her I do, she gets up to call the police back into the room, muttering under her breath, "Jesus, I hope they fry the fucker."

For the next ninety minutes, I talk almost nonstop. Tearfully, I share the details of my dad's death. I also relate several of the incidents I've had with Aro and admit that I don't know Jessica well enough to guess whether or not she would help Aro steal money from his clients. Lieutenant Murphy nods often as if he believes me, saying that they'll confirm my story with the insurance company and bank tomorrow.

"And when you do, we'll welcome your phone call notifying my client that she's been cleared of any involvement, with your apologies," Claire states firmly, packing her notepad away. "I think we're done here for tonight. Right, fellas?"

They agree, giving back my purse and saying they'll be in touch as we leave the room. I mumble my thanks before Claire and I turn the opposite way to walk down the hallway.

"They may ask you to come back for more questioning after they talk to Jessica," she says quietly. "Don't answer anything without me being present."

"I won't."

"It's going to be okay, Bella. Try not to worry."

"I'm trying," I maintain, but my anxiety level is rising again. The emotional tug of war that played out all day has left me a tangled mess inside. I feel raw, ready to snap, and I cross my arms over my chest to hold myself together.

Exiting the hallway through double doors, I see Edward sitting in a chair against the wall. When he sees us coming, he immediately stands and walks forward, wrapping his arms around me. I lean into him, but don't hug him back. I'm not really paying attention as he and Claire talk quietly – until she tells him that he'll probably be questioned, too.

"No," I croak, backing away from him to look at Claire.

"Not because of you, Bella. Or, at least, not _just_ because of you," she explains. I know she's attempting to alleviate my distress, but it feels like no matter what we do to push him out, Aro's reach extends further and further into our lives. "He's Aro's tenant. He was preparing to buy one of the buildings. All of Aro's business dealings will be relevant to the case."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I feel tears prick the back of my eyes and know I'm going to lose it soon if I don't get out of here. Edward must sense my growing agitation because he picks up his leather jacket and coaxes me into putting it on. I watch as he pulls on another coat he brought with him.

During the drive to the condo, I stare out the passenger window, not speaking except for an occasional "mmhmm" when Edward asks if I'm all right. The knowledge that Edward is going to be dragged into this chaos combined with the steady throbbing of my injured fingers leaves me with little desire for conversation. I shut my eyes, hoping my mind will go blank, too. But my head won't quit asking questions that I'm not sure I want to answer.

What impact will this turmoil with Aro have on Edward's business? On mine?

What will Aro do when he discovers I've cooperated with the investigation about the missing money?

With all the trouble I'm causing, how much longer will Edward stick around?

By the time I hear Edward lower his window to let us inside his building's garage, the emotional weight in my chest is so heavy that it's a physical ache. In the past, I would lock myself in an empty studio when I felt like this, losing myself in dance for hours, until the pain subsided enough for good feelings to bubble to the surface again. I wish I could do that now, but I think I'll hurt Edward if I ask him to take me to the studio… and he wouldn't let me stay there alone anyway.

He parks and turns off the car, prompting me to open my eyes and look out the window again. I'm surprised to see my truck parked next to us.

"How–?"

"Alice gave me your extra keys. Emmett and Rosalie brought it over. I think they brought us food, too."

Touched by what my friends have done, I'm too choked up to say anything as we get out of the car. Once we're on the elevator up to his floor, I finally look at him.

"Thank you, Edward. For everything," I whisper.

"I didn't do much, ballerina." With a shrug, he turns his head my way.

"Yes, you did," I insist, reaching for his hand. Slipping my fingers between his, the flash of desire I feel is immediate… and just as overwhelming as every other emotion I've experienced today. "I'm sorry you got stuck at the police station all night."

"Where else do you think I'd be?"

"I don't know," I murmur. "I don't want to think anymore."

Stepping in front of him, I lift up to kiss him, hooking my left elbow around his neck. Although he seems surprised by my eagerness, he responds quickly, moving his lips with mine. Within seconds, I get my wish – I'm not thinking. Losing myself in him, I forget everything except how much I love him, how much I want him. I scrape my teeth along his lower lip, then pull it into my mouth, sucking until he groans.

When the elevator bell dings softly, he wraps an arm around my waist, backing me out the doors as they open. Turning us in the direction of his condo, he breaks the kiss to look around, and then bends down to pick me up. I wrap my arms and legs around him, panting into his ear while he walks to his door and unlocks it.

"Get the door," he orders once we're inside.

After I slam it shut, he presses me against it, kissing me again as he locks the deadbolt. I hear his keys land on the wood floor just before he slides his hands to my ass, holding me in place as he rocks his hips into mine again and again. Craving the release, craving _him_, my body jerks each time he grazes my clit through the thin material covering me, sending sparks of pleasure through me.

After a moment, he sets me down. His gaze stays focused on mine as we hurriedly shed our coats. Bending down to kiss me again, he unzips my hoodie roughly, and soon it and my tank top join the jackets on the floor. He yanks his shirt off, and then rests his palms against the door, leaning into me. Moaning into his mouth, I thread my right hand through his hair as we kiss passionately. Heat radiates between our bodies, and I let my hand drift down to spread wide across his chest, creeping lower… lower. When I rub my hand over the front of his jeans, he pushes forward.

"Fuck," he breathes against my lips as I stroke him.

He moves one hand, ghosting it lightly across my collarbone, nudging the straps of my bra off my shoulders. His fingers trace the skin just above my bra, and then he lowers his head to kiss along the same path. When I arch into his touch, he gives me what I want, closing his hand around one breast and his mouth around the other. I look down, watching him, more aroused with each flick of his tongue across the lace covering my nipple, each gentle squeeze of his fingers. Gasping, I enjoy the heightening passion, but I'm too impatient to wait much longer for him.

I leave my aching left hand hanging at my side and reach for his belt with my right, loosening it from the buckle, and then unfastening the button of his jeans. But Edward shifts away before I get my hand inside. He looks up at me for the briefest second before dropping to his knees. Kissing across my belly, he tugs my pants, shorts and underwear down all at once, lifting my right leg to pull off my shoe and clothes. Skimming his hand up my thigh, he slides it between my legs, groaning quietly as he pushes two fingers inside me. His hot breath beats against my skin, my legs tremble, and just when I think I can't take much more, I feel his tongue scrape over my clit.

"Oh, God. Oh, my God." Sucking air in through my teeth, I reach for his hair, digging my fingers in as he continues his sensual torment. When I get too close, I pull his hair hard enough to get his attention, unsure he'll understand my breathy wishes. "Not this way. Up here."

Standing again at once, he licks my bottom lip, tasting of me. I hear the metal zipper of his jeans just before he lifts me, plunging inside with one deep thrust. Relief speeds through my veins once we're joined, but it doesn't last. I want more.

"Jesus, ballerina." His husky voice rumbles through my chest when he pulls out and slams back in forcefully. "You feel so fucking good."

Unable to answer, I whimper, letting my mouth fall open as we move together, the steady pace quickly turning frantic. Each time he drives into me, the door rattles in the jamb. With each thrust, I hear his belt buckle clang rhythmically against the wood and feel his fingers digging into my skin. Clutching him, I race closer and closer to the edge. Finally, I cry out as pleasure rips through me, spreading wildly in wave after wave. Edward follows right after, holding still as he pulses inside me. After whispering my name, he rests his forehead against the door.

Slowly, as the daze of my orgasm recedes, I'm aware that my pants and underwear are hanging from my left ankle, the button of Edward's jeans is digging into my thigh and I think one of my fingers is bleeding after I gripped his shoulder tightly as I came. Still, I sigh contentedly.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Bella." His lips brush against my shoulder before returning to mine, kissing me slowly, sweetly.

"Something smells good," I state, twisting my head away to speak.

He lowers me to the ground, and then smiles at me. "I think it's our dinner. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, but I want to take a shower… no, a bath." Lifting my left leg, I pull off my shoe and let my clothes slide to the ground. "Will you come with me?"

"I never really liked baths," he hedges, pulling up his pants.

"I'll be wet and naked."

"Until today," he amends, chuckling. "Start the water and I'll be right there."

I'm not as comfortable walking around without clothing as he is, but I head down the hallway in only my bra, knowing he's watching. While the water is running into the deep whirlpool tub, I look at myself in the mirror and cringe. Even though I reapplied my makeup this afternoon, I cried most of it off at the police station. My eyes are red and swollen. Most of my hair has fallen from the bun I put it in to teach. I look awful, but I feel great.

"Crap," I mumble, examining my splotchy face and neck while I fix my hair. "I need dimmer lighting."

Remembering that there are candles in Edward's closet, I go get several and set them on the vanity, hoping I'll look better this way. Just after I've lit them and climbed into the tub, Edward comes in, carrying a plate, a bottle of water and two beers. I swallow the two ibuprofen pills he gives me with a few sips of the water, and then he hands me half a cheeseburger and a beer.

"Fresh out of champagne and strawberries," he remarks apologetically, taking off his pants and climbing in with me with his own half a burger and beer.

"This is so good," I moan, chewing my first bite. "And way more romantic than fruit, if you ask me. Thank you."

While we eat, we talk a little, but he doesn't ask me about what happened this afternoon and evening, although I'm sure he wants to know. I finish my burger and most of my beer, and then set the bottle on the wide rim around the tub. Closing my eyes, I sink farther down into the hot, swirling water.

"This is nice, ballerina. I mean, considering that we're sitting in a pool of our own filth," he quips several minutes later, nudging my thigh with his foot. Reaching underwater, I grab his toes, and then skim my fingers along his arch, laughing as he squirms.

"I'm ready to tell you about today," I announce, sliding my hand to wrap around his ankle. Hanging on to him, I keep my eyes shut as I relay the story, beginning with the moment I saw the detectives in the mirror. He asks a few questions, but for the most part, he lets me talk uninterrupted. I finish by telling him that I still don't know if Aro will file a police report for what I did to him this morning.

"You've had a rough fucking day, baby," he says quietly.

"Not my best day. Not my worst either," I muse, slitting my eyes open a little to find him smirking at me. I raise one curious eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Who would have thought _you'd_ be the first one in this relationship detained by the cops?" he jokes, holding his hands up defensively when I splash him. He copies my gesture, except he's more effective. He douses me with water so that I'm sputtering through my laughter.

"What a relaxing bath," I say sarcastically, pushing the wet hair out of my face.

"The best way to relax is to have fun," he asserts.

"Or have sex. But we already did that."

"Ballerina, what we did wasn't sex," he declares lowly, holding my gaze. "That was fucking."

Watching his eyes darken, I feel my face heat, but not from embarrassment. "I liked it."

"I did, too," he nods, reaching over to turn off the whirlpool motor. He stands and gets out, wrapping a towel around his waist before holding a hand toward me. "But it was over too fast. Come on. Let's try it slow."

"My hair's wet," I protest half-heartedly.

"I don't fucking care."

He kisses me as I climb out, and then helps me dry off. After pausing to blow out the candles, he leads me to his bed. The sense of urgency we felt earlier has lessened. We don't rush as we explore each other's bodies, letting the pressure build slowly with gentle caresses and whispered words. The pleasure, when it comes at last, is all-consuming. It's much later, when we're lying face-to-face under the covers, that he frowns and I reach over to trace the vertical line between his eyebrows.

"What's the matter?"

"I fucking hate everything you've gone through with Aro," he replies. "I hate what he's done, what's he's tried to do. But if you'd never gone to work for him–."

"We probably wouldn't have met," I finish as he nods. "I've thought the same thing, Edward. But I wouldn't trade what we have for anything."

"Me neither. And that makes me a selfish asshole."

"No, it doesn't. I'm fine," I insist. "I actually think I did pretty well with him today."

"Jesus, ballerina. You were fucking fantastic. I'm so proud of you – how you handled Aro, how you handled everything. I'd really like to have five fucking minutes alone with him, though."

"No way. One of us being charged with assault is enough."

"He won't do it. He's got no grounds," he responds. I scoot toward him, resting my face against his chest and tangling my legs with his.

"I'm scared."

"I know you are. And I don't know what we'll have to go through before it's all over," he says, stroking his hand along my spine. "But when it's over, you and I will still be here… together."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. I promise, ballerina."

"We're getting pretty good at this relationship shit," I observe, knowing it will amuse him that I sound like him. It does. He laughs, and when I look up at him, my heart is so full that I think it might burst.

"I agree, baby," he murmurs when I stretch up to kiss him. "I agree."

* * *

The next day, Edward is called in for questioning as expected. After making me promise to stay at the Full Moon with Emmett, he gets to drive himself to the police station, not be carted away in the backseat of an unmarked car like I was.

He hasn't returned by the time classes start, so I leave the blinds open in the dance room. Toward the end of my first class, I breathe easier when I see him pull in and park. Since it's dusk, I know he can see into the bright studio when he gets out of the car and looks my way. He holds his phone up before turning to walk inside the Full Moon.

The last ten minutes of class tick by slowly, and as soon as the students leave the room, I grab my phone from the stereo shelf to read the text from him.

***It went fine. Quit worrying. See you at 9.**

With a laugh, I set my phone down again and twist the blinds closed. When classes are over for the evening, I'm not surprised to hear a key in the lock at the side door. It opens as I'm walking toward it and he comes inside, striding purposefully toward me.

"Hey," he smiles, sliding one arm around my waist. Before I can answer, he kisses me.

"Alice is still here," I mumble against his lips when his hand wanders to the top of my ass.

"She's in favor of groping. She fucking talks about it all the time," he laughs, but he pulls away and hands me the styrofoam cup he brought.

"Thanks. You're in a good mood."

"I'm in a great mood. I heard some very interesting information at the police station today," he says, watching my mouth as I close my lips around the straw and suck. Realizing he's paying attention, I lick the drops of Diet Coke from the top of the straw, then take another long, slow pull, sucking my cheeks in. His jaw goes slack. His eyes lift up to meet mine, and I can't help the smirk that tugs at my lips. "Quit fucking teasing me, ballerina."

"Who's teasing, baby?"

Smiling, he leans down to me again, talking between kisses. "I'm trying to tell you something and you're distracting me."

Putting my hands against his chest, I press him away gently. "Okay, spill it. What's going on?"

"Aro doesn't own these fucking buildings – yours or mine," he says, nodding when my mouth drops open in shock.

"What the–? How did–?" I stammer, struggling to understand. "Then who does?"

"His very, _very_ angry wife."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.**


End file.
